The Codex
by dracosgem
Summary: Isolated and alone, Draco Malfoy scours the globe in search of priceless magical artifacts. But when he discovers an ancient Muggle Codex, he returns to England only to be reunited with the one person who will force him to face his past- Hermione Granger.
1. An Unexpected Discovery

**Chapter One: An Unexpected Discovery**

Golden rays of midday sun tipped the craggy, coal-colored peaks of the Dinaric Alps- an extraordinarily warm summer having melted the fine layer of snow that usually dusted the stony tips. The soft yellow hues highlighted the dark, fanglike summits, casting ominous shadows on bordering crevices, and vindicating the disparaging denomination given to this section of mountains in Northern Albania. The locals, populating the nearby Village of Grunas- a small, rural community in the Thethi Valley- had dubbed the range Prokletije- meaning 'accursed'. According to regional folklore, the mountains were created by the Devil himself, unleashed from Hell for a single day of mischief.

Draco Malfoy surveyed the massive range as he stood in solitary wonder on an isolated promontory. The rocky shoal rose impressively from the Thethi Valley and provided a view of both hard, stony mountain and soft, green plain. As he looked around in sheer awe, he wondered how the local Albanians could ever consider such magnificent landscape 'cursed'. _Nothing but a lot of superstitious goat herding, Muggles… _

"Mr. Malfoy?" a thickly accented voice rang out behind him and Draco immediately stiffened.

"What is it?" he spat, not bothering to turn around. His past had denied him the comfort of conversing with others- he had become a virtual recluse in his final years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizadry…something that had only gotten worse after graduation.

It was no secret that Draco Malfoy had been allegiant to the wrong side during the Second Wizarding War- he now felt that the threat of death had not been a sustainable excuse for his loyalties. After all was said and done, the Malfoy's had chosen to quietly secede from the wizarding world- shame descending on the family like death's heavy shroud. Draco had never known true shame and it pierced through him like the Cruciatus curse. His mind had become regret's barren wasteland and his body her constant victim. Sleep had become an unattainable thing…not that he had slept all that well to begin with. He had learned to function on as little sleep as possible while the Dark Lord presided over the Manor- you never knew when he might decide to use your slumbering body for target practice.

Now, Draco was perceived as an unattainable playboy- traveling the world in search of priceless magical artifacts. His limitless boundaries and hefty bank accounts had made his profession a perfect escape from reality- although he had fled the confines of his family's Manor, he found himself unable to elude the destructive memories that haunted him. The globe trotting, playboy image was the perfect frontage. Effectually deceiving any onlooker, it successfully concealed his true condition- a condition that he would never reveal to anyone. Attempting to comprehend the internal chaos that ruled his battered psyche was impossible, and made the idea of having a real relationship laughable, at best.

As a result, he had slipped into his own isolated inferno. Cold and distant, he had become exactly what his family had always trained him to be- corporeal arrogance without the slightest hint of sentiment. This was lost on any unsuspecting person- he was _that good _at concealing his true comportment. In fact, even he had, at times, fallen victim to his delusions- embracing the empty hand life had dealt him- he sought out wealth and pleasure to fill the void. He had become nothing but a pompous, prosperous, port whore…his days spent hunting for treasure, his nights spent hunting for women.

And he _never_ had the same girl twice.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir…"

Draco sighed and turned to face the man addressing him.

Bryce Ludeck shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at the ground. He had been working as Draco's LD (Lead Detector) for over three years and the blonde still made him nervous.

_I'll be sure to keep it that way…_ A knowing smirk spread over Draco's pale face.

"What is it, Ludeck?" he inquired steadily.

The dark haired wizard looked up at Draco and shuffled anxiously. "Er, just wanted to let you know that the site's been inspected and we're ready to commence with detection."

Draco nodded curtly. "Lead the way," he replied.

Bryce turned on his heel and began striding towards the Eastern end of the promontory. Draco sighed diffidently, but followed his employee nonetheless.

Originally from Australia, Bryce Ludeck was robust and rugged- his broad form, shaggy brown hair, and killer tan making him an immediate hit with the ladies. A true product of the Australian Outback, he had been raised in the Central Australian Desert by the Pitjantjatjara- an Aboriginal people better known as the Anangu. As a child, Bryce had wandered onto their lands- his name his only lucid memory. The Anangu had immediately recognized that Bryce was no ordinary child. He had strolled nonchalantly into their village, a Common Brown wrapped round his neck, giggling as it flicked his ear with its tongue.

The Common Brown is one of Australia's most venomous snakes.

It was apparent that the boy had magical talent and was immediately placed with the tribe's Healer, a man who also had an aptitude for the supernatural. Bryce's skills were not limited to snake charming- he also had the ability to sense fluctuations in the Earth's spiritual energy. In short, if someone were to use magic within a three mile radius of Bryce, he could feel it. It was the same with magical items- he could sense the mystical vibrations emanating even from an inanimate object- which made him invaluable to Draco.

Bryce's history was certainly interesting. After years of training, he had set off on a Spirit Quest- the Anangu's final test of spiritual maturity. In a fated turn of events, he found himself in Queensland- standing directly under a massive Black Palm. Throughout his youth he had dreamt of this very tree- a native Australian perennial bearing wood naturally aligned with magic. The Black Palm enhances mystical energy and opens spiritual pathways- both traits at which Bryce was particularly adept. The Anangu had taught him self-reliance, preaching that true power comes from within. It was this belief coupled with standing beneath the very tree he had always envisioned that persuaded Bryce to construct a wand from the wood of the Black Palm. His lessons had emphasized that anything he created would be endowed with his personal energy- thereby increasing his natural magic while using that object. Combining the wood with the heartstring of an Antipodean Opaleye dragon, another native of the region, Bryce's wand was proof that this theory was not illogical. Draco had witnessed Bryce's exceptional wand work on several occasions- his talent was certainly impressive, though he was still no match for the able Slytherin.

The men had met during a mutual quest for treasure. Draco had heard that several hundred years prior, a Pirate ship had sunken in the waters just off of Australia's Great Barrier Reef. Although the expedition would only reap Muggle rewards, Draco had found that the pursuit of a Muggle cache afforded him the luxury of pursuing the more difficult magical hunts.

It was during this particular quest that he and Ludeck decided to team up. Draco immediately realized that the journey would reap more than just Muggle treasure- he had found a wealth of magic in the form of Bryce Ludeck.

The men slowed their strident pace as they neared the ruined walls of a medieval fortress perched on the promontory's Eastern edge. A small group of workers immediately stopped what they were doing and gazed at the pair reverently. One of the men stepped forward and addressed Ludeck directly. "Mr. Ludeck, we've prepared the space for Deprehensio."

Draco ignored the exchange, choosing to scrutinize the fortresses' stonework. "There's something strange about this, Ludeck," he commented and bent down to inspect the mortars. After briefly examining the primitive masonry, he stood up and faced his associate. "This is cyclopean stone."

Ludeck frowned. "That's not possible…that would make this over two thousand years old…" he trailed off as he watched Draco's brow rise in challenge.

"The boulders are fitted together without mortar…this is a prime example of Bronze Age architecture- a style utilized primarily by the Mycenaean's," Draco drawled sardonically. "What were the results of the _Caryota_ analysis?"

The men all looked down at their feet and shuffled apprehensively.

Draco's stony expression hardened to glacial condemnation. "What is the _first thing_ I have _always_ asked you to do?!" he barked angrily.

The men flinched as growled and kicked a nearby rock. It shot up in the air and ricocheted off a nearby boulder.

"Date the bloody site!!" he shouted furiously and the men immediately sprung to life, waving their wands and muttering incantations.

Draco huffed indignantly. _Lazy gits…if they keep this up, they'll be hopping the next broom back to wherever the hell they came from!_

As the men continued to analyze the site, Draco strolled dejectedly toward a nearby boulder and sat down. Ludeck followed reluctantly, kicking at loose stones with his thick hiking boots.

Draco looked at his associate and rolled his eyes. "Quite a crew," he mumbled irritably. "Is it _that_ difficult to follow instructions?"

Ludeck crossed his arms. "Draco…they're locals. You know the myths associated with this particular mountain range. We're lucky we got anyone up here at all."

"Gobshite! We've been working with these louts for a good six months…I didn't see one of them running for the dunes while we excavated that tomb in Egypt," Draco shot back, tone thick with petulance. "It comes down to pure work ethic- the fact that half of them hail from Albania isn't my bloody concern."

Ludeck nodded in acquiescence. "What would you have me do?"

Draco shook his head. "I thought it would be obvious," he muttered disconcertedly. "Maintain diligence, you moron! Isn't that what I pay you for? Or is it just the fringe benefits you're after?"

Ludeck bristled slightly. "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked warily.

Draco barked out a hearty laugh. "Oh, I think you know what I mean…it doesn't hurt to play with the big boys, does it Bryce? You've gotten more money and more pussy in the last month than you have in your entire life- and we both know why."

Ludeck sneered but kept his mouth shut. He knew the repercussions of arguing with Draco Malfoy.

Draco smirked triumphantly and leaned back on the boulder. "Just try to keep a clear head, alright mate? I don't want to lose the best employee I've got because he's too wrapped round the last piece of quim he scored and not on the job…got it?"

Ludeck shot Draco a deviously crooked smile. "You can hardly blame me, mate…that Milla was once hot piece of arse."

Draco's smirk spread into a sly grin. "Not as hot as Aria…or Lara for that matter. But not every man can do what I can…" he sniffed arrogantly.

Ludeck chuckled. "Bloody hell right…you've definitely got the life, Draco," Ludeck replied enviously, "I'd have given anything to grow up the way you did."

Draco's sly grin faltered. The slightest comment could send him hurtling into space- his mind flipping every which way as he unwillingly relived the horrors of his past. Only recently had the memories started to hit him like threads of a tightly woven tapestry, blanketing him in a suffocating haze of dreadful delusion- they existed separately, like pieces of colored yarn pulled tight to form a single, haunting image. Today was no different and he shuddered inwardly as the visions nibbled his brain like carnivorous flobberworms.

Bending at the waste, he gripped his head in his hands and willed the images to leave him, cursing inwardly as they only seemed to grow stronger. Flashes of green light…unstoppable Fiendfyre…Harry Potter crying 'Sectumsempra'… his Auntie Bella's wild cackle…Hermione Granger writhing in agony on the floor of the Manor's pristine drawing room...Dumbledore's eyes…it all hit him at once and, abruptly, he felt the air expel from his lungs, as if struck in the gut. His vision blurred, his heart pounded, and Bryce's voice became barely audible as Draco pitched forward and slammed into the ground.

"Merlin's Arse!!" Ludeck cried as he shot forward to help Draco up. "Are you alright?"

Draco took Ludeck's proffered hand and stood up gingerly. He brushed himself off and glanced at the pack of workers still going about their business. Luckily, they hadn't noticed his little 'incident'.

Ludeck was another matter entirely.

He eyed Draco warily- brown eyes fixed in resignation. "What the hell is going on with you lately, Malfoy?" he asked gravely. "That's the second time you've passed out in the last month. What gives?"

Draco scowled and crossed his arms stubbornly. "Just a bit jet lagged, that's all," he replied, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.

Before Ludeck could answer, one of the men shouted that the Caryota analysis was complete and Draco took this as his cue to move on. It seemed, however, that Ludeck was unwilling to let it go. He reached out and gripped Draco's arm tightly. "You'd tell me if something were going on with you, right Draco?" he asked quietly.

Draco raised a brow. "You should know the answer to that, Ludeck."

He ripped his arm from the man's grasp and strode towards the excavation site.

"Oi! What's the buzz, boys?" Draco shouted excitedly.

Lester Diggman, a middle aged Magical Archeologist stepped forward. He removed the dark brown fedora covering his salt-n-pepper locks and wiped his forehead. "It looks like your estimation was correct, Mr. Malfoy. The fortress was, indeed, a Bronze Age structure…and all that from a Muggle analysis," Diggman stated respectfully. "I must say, that is most impressive, sir."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't quit your day job, Diggs…you'll find riches by sticking your nose in the dirt- _not_ up my arse."

Turning to face Ludeck, Draco gestured towards the site. "Now that we _finally_ have an age assessment, you can move forward with Deprehensio."

Draco's face was serious as he addressed his associate and Ludeck nodded curtly in response. He pulled out his wand and the crew backed away, watching in admiration as he circled the site three times. He stopped intermittently at four pre-determined locations around the site and muttered a quiet incantation. Each location was marked with an item symbolizing its directional and spiritual indicate. On his third loop, he halted behind a chalice of water- his spirit sign- and stood perfectly still. This was Ludeck's common ritual- he used it every time he cast the Deprehensio Charm. A combination of Neo-Pagan and Aboriginal spirit magic, he called upon the elements in an effort to 'clear' the space. It allowed him a more effective reading of the site and enabled him to detect the existence of any mystical artifacts hidden from view. Lifting his wand into the air, he muttered softly and, gradually, a strange thrumming sound enveloped the site.

Stepping around the chalice, Ludeck entered the site and stood in the center of the circle. He pointed his wand toward the sky and inhaled deeply. "Deprehensio," he said loudly.

The thrumming that had previously enveloped the site suddenly began to emanate from a particular section of the fortress. Ludeck moved tentatively towards the sound and stopped in front of a large, flat stone. He turned and faced Draco with a strange look on his face.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

Ludeck furrowed his brows. "There's something strange. I'm picking up reverberations of an old…Fidelius Charm…" he trailed off and closed his eyes in concentration. "It's odd…the reverberations are very strong. Obviously the woman who cast it, yes- I can sense that it was a woman, was a very able witch. Her death, however, has rendered the charm obsolete. We'll find whatever she was guarding under this stone."

Ludeck pointed to the wide, flat stone lying at his feet and the crew moved forward, wands pointed at the mammoth rock.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Diggs stated firmly and the rock quivered slightly then lifted off of the ground. He balanced it overhead and levitated it a few meters south of the site.

The men looked down and immediately noticed a sizeable hole dug into the ground. It seemed that the stone had been placed over the opening to protect whatever lay inside.

Draco pulled his wand from the waistband of his trousers and pointed it into the hole.

"Lumos," he stated with conviction, and the wand tip ignited, casting a soft, subtle glow into the gaping hole.

Draco raised a brow in intrigue as he spied a sloping stairwell. Looking up at Ludeck, he smiled deviously. "Who's first?"

Ludeck nodded him forward and Draco eyed him with an amused expression. "Aw, is poor wittle Wudeck scawed to go in the big bad howel?" Draco mocked and rolled his eyes. "After me, men!"

Trudging down the soft embankment, Draco stepped cautiously onto the stony stairwell, his wand at the ready. On the off chance that more than just an old Fidelius Charm was protecting the location, he cast a Shield Charm and held it in front of him as he descended into inky blackness. His wand tip cast a soft glow on the stony structure, sparkling intermittently as the light danced on splendid geodes dotting the walls. He kept an even pace as he moved deeper into the earth, though his heart pounded in a combination of apprehension and excitement.

As Draco came to the last step, he blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the cavernous room before him. Holding his wand up in front of him, he looked around slowly. The room was octagonal in shape, and a number of niches dotted each wall, old bones wrapped in primordial fabrics lain out in each.

It seemed that they had unearthed an ancient burial tomb.

A row of torches lined the walls in between each catacomb and Draco pointed his wand at the one closest to him. "Incendio."

The torch lit up immediately and cast a flickering light across the floor of the burial chamber. Stepping into the room, he gazed in awe at the host of antiquities lining the vast cavern.

There were a number of Greco-Roman statuettes and busts perched on marble plinths. Many of them moved of their own accord, reminding Draco of the bewitched Suits of Armor in Hogwarts Castle. Several tapestries softened the mineral walls, their threaded imagery casting an aura of tranquility over any who looked on them. Beneath several of the catacombs, were beautifully crafted chests gilded in gold and encrusted in precious stones. One in particular, situated at the farthest point from the cavern entrance, was larger than the others.

It immediately caught Draco's eye and he strode forward, his heart rate jumping as he neared the ancient coffer. His body had come alive with electricity, and he bit his bottom lip in anticipation as he leaned down to examine the brilliant artifact. He was vaguely aware of the other men scouring the room greedily, but he only had eyes for the ornate box lying at his feet.

The craftsmanship was exquisite, though not typical of the Bronze Age. Draco tilted the chest back a bit, noting that it had been crafted from a springy mahogany and a solid iron. Its face was smooth, inlaid with a ring of rubies and emeralds. The workmanship was undoubtedly medieval, but why in Merlin's holy hell would a medieval artifact be situated in an ancient burial tomb dating back to the Bronze Age? _Curious…very curious indeed…_

He ran a hand over the top of the chest and felt a number of grooves etched in its top. Settling the chest back down, he leaned over and inspected the lid. There, engraved in the springy wood, was a single, phrase written in Greek.

_Only __this was left within her unbreakable house…_

Draco narrowed his eyes. He recognized the phrase almost immediately, though it seemed to be missing something. The phrase referenced a poem written by Hesiod…a poem about…

"Pandora," Draco whispered aloud.

As soon as the name had fallen from his lips, the chest lid abruptly popped open and a bright light engulfed the room. Covering his eyes, Draco stumbled backwards, bumping into the other men as, they too, staggered around- the exceptionally bright light blinding any who looked on it.

"What in Merlin's name _is_ that?!" Diggs shouted in exasperation.

"I don't know!" Draco cried, equally aggravated with the unyielding glow. Doing the only thing he could think of, he stumbled towards the chest and fumbled around for the lid.

It wouldn't budge.

_Salazar's Swollen Knob! What the hell is going on here?!_

Draco racked his brain for a possible remedy to their current situation. As it was, the entire crew was now blinded by the ridiculously intense beam from hell coming from the box.

Just as Draco could literally feel his eyes being burnt out of his skull, the phrase on the box top suddenly popped into his head.

_Only __this was left within her unbreakable house…_

Draco inhaled sharply as the answer dawned on him.

"_HOPE_!" he shouted, and as abruptly as the room had illuminated, it fell into eerie darkness.

Draco blinked his eyes blearily, and felt around on the ground for his wand.

"Is everyone alright?" Luceck's voice echoed from above and Draco jumped slightly. A wand tip lit above him, thankfully aiding him in finding his wand, which had rolled a few feet away. He grabbed the sleek baton and immediately re-lit the torches surrounding the room.

"What in Circe's tit was that?" Diggs asked, as he rubbed his fuzzy eyes.

"Damned if I know," Draco replied. He hesitantly approached the chest. A the lid was still lying open, he stood up on his tiptoes to get a good look inside.

Lying on the bottom was an ancient book made entirely of sheepskin and bound with a thick, leather cord. Draco bent down and tentatively lifted the ancient volume with ginger hands. He examined the ancient book, amazed by its condition. Although it had to be at least fifteen hundred years old, it was untarnished…as if protected by magic.

"Ludeck, what can you tell me about this?" Draco asked as he crooked his finger at his associate.

Bryce staggered over and looked at the ancient book, his mouth agape in astonishment. "Why, it's a Muggle Codex!" he cried, tone thick with surprise.

Draco lifted a brow. "_Muggle_?"

Ludeck smirked triumphantly. "There isn't an ounce of mystical energy coming off that thing…" Ludeck replied confidently, "…it's clearly Muggle."

Draco furrowed his brows in confusion. _Muggle? A Muggle item protected by magic? _

This was not something he had seen coming. A Muggle item amongst a host of magical artifacts was certainly strange…but there was also the matter of contrasting timelines that was confusing the hell out of the Slytherin. The tomb was clearly from the Bronze Age, but held a number of Greco-Roman relics, including the Codex, from Late Antiquity- yet, the Codex had been housed in a medieval chest. There was also the problem that it was written in an ancient language he couldn't decipher, which pointed to the possibility that the Codex was the written form of an ancient text that had survived multiple generations. Late Antiquity had been the dawn of the use of codex's, and had also been dominated by Roman influence, so this Codex should have been written in Latin- but it wasn't. This bothered Draco immensely and his mind swam with theories…he had to figure out what this book was for…_immediately_.

This left him with only one alternative, an alternative he certainly wasn't looking forward to.

He had to return to England and seek out his family's dearest friend- Parsifal Privett. He was the only person Draco would trust with the Codex and, of course, it didn't hurt that he happened to be the Ministry's Expert Paleographer.

Draco turned to face his crew. "Grab all the booty ya' can, boys…we're headed to England!"

* * *

_**A/N- The next chapter will be written from Hermione Granger's perspective and will detail where she is in life, etc. It is likely that the pair will not become 'reacquainted' until chapter three...I've got some action planned for Draco and the crew that I'd like to get written before I introduce the Dramione aspect of the story. But I promise it'll be worth it!! **_


	2. Changes

**Chapter Two: Changes**

Dawn had begun her favorite custom- peeking playfully over the eaves of straight-stacked houses- she allowed her soft glow to eclipse red-toned rooflines and illuminate a sleepy, little village spanning an ample, wooded valley. A pleasant market township and sizeable farming community, the village of Bampton was not far from Godric's Hollow, and perched proudly on the Batherm River in England's West Country. Welcoming all who passed with its charming aura, Bampton had captivated both magical and Muggle alike- earning it a fairly mixed population respectively.

On the northern edge of town was a small, split-level, country home with wide windows and Tudor styling. A small park boasting a palette of prime colored perennials and a blanket of velvety, green grass surrounded the little cottage, giving it a Rockwell-like aura. At present, the cottage was shrouded in darkness- the slope of a nearby hill casting shadows over anything in its stead. The windows of the home were equally dark- lending to the assumption that its occupants had not yet risen.

Inside the little house, a slumbering couple lay in an upstairs bedroom, seemingly unaware that dawn crept mischievously toward their unlit abode.

Rolling over slowly, a young, brunette woman yawned and blinkingly opened her eyes. The room was shrouded in early morning light and a soft blue haze danced over the contours of her face, highlighting the spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her intelligent, dark brown eyes gazed groggily around the room and she sat up carefully, stretching her arms high overhead.

It was the last day of the workweek and Hermione Granger smiled lazily. She pulled her mane of rebellious espresso curls into a loose ponytail and, glancing sideways, stifled a laugh as she took in the lanky figure sprawled inelegantly across her bed. A rhythmic snore resounded around the room and she rolled her eyes in earnest. It was times like these that she was thankful for the 'Silencio' charm.

Peeling the bed sheets back, she slid her feet from beneath the warm, cotton cocoon and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She flinched as bare feet met the cold, wooden floor and grappled for a pair of slippers lying nearby. Sliding her sensitive soles inside, she stood up and reached for a white, satin robe hanging off her footboard. She wrapped the soft, silky material around her body and tiptoed to a window adjacent to her bed. She gingerly pulled back the curtains and looked outside. The sun had just begun its ascent- its vivid rays dancing on neighboring rooftops- illuminating the sprawling village Hermione had come to refer to as 'home'.

In truth, she had fallen in love with the little village the moment she stepped onto its ancient, cobbled streets. Lined with shop fronts, the berg's 'open market' atmosphere reminded her greatly of Diagon Alley. Yet, its bountiful Muggle pedigree was omnipresent- providing the perfect blend of both legacies. The Gryffindor had discovered the friendly, little village while on holiday and had spent a few days exploring the wonders of rural living. She had quickly discovered that there was something endearing about the country- no bustling city sounds or loud Muggle traffic- it was peaceful and inviting. Even when local farmers blocked the winding, cobbled paths each morning- driving their cattle through the center of town- it was a welcome distinction from the human cattle Hermione contended with on her way to work.

Appraising the little garden below, she watched the sun's glinting fissures slither towards the meandering walkway like tentacles of Devil's Snare. Within minutes, the flora filled plot would set ablaze in hues of yellow and gold- enhancing the pretty annuals dotting the yard. She reached down and pulled the latch holding the window shut and, as the pane swung open, a soft breeze wafted into the room accompanied by the distinctive, woodsy aroma typically associated with Bampton at springtime.

Sitting in the window's tiny alcove, she listened to the sounds of the waking village, relishing the lack of clamor. Admittedly, the simplistic lifestyle had initially drawn her to Bampton. She had started looking for real estate a year prior and the little village had been the first place she felt she could call home. Indeed, when she walked through the village streets, or over the Batherm's wandering tributaries, she truly felt as if she belonged. Such a profound connection could not be ignored and, after much deliberation, she decided to gently suggest the village to her fiancé. Luckily, the magical influence in the community would greatly aid her case. In truth, a purely Muggle village would not be suitable for a wizard like Ronald Weasley…the man could barely get around Muggle London, let alone attempt to reside in a village completely devoid of magic. Regardless, Hermione refused to live in a place subjugated by mysticism. She was Muggleborn after all, and had spent a good chunk of her life shamed by her lineage, so she felt it prudent that their hometown be a harmony of heritages.

Ron had surprisingly taken to the little town. The balance of Muggle and magic was impressive and he had agreed to consider Bampton as a possible residence. After surviving a brutal war, one has a tendency to re-evaluate one's life, and it had been no different for Ron and Hermione. They had discovered that equality was the most important aspect to a working relationship- striving for balance had become their main objective- and Bampton was certainly a physical representation of this principle.

Though dominated by a Muggle population, the village possessed many of the conveniences of modern day magic. Both Ron and Hermione could easily floo to and from London for work, procure products and ingredients from a number of magical shops in the marketplace, and, the fact that they were less than ten miles from Godric's Hollw, had also been a rather large pro on their list of 'must haves'. The fact that there was a massive Quidditch Pitch in a neighboring field had also helped and, once Ron had gotten round to checking it out, he immediately asked where to sign.

Hermione glanced behind her and raised a brow as Ron's snores grew into a loud splutter. He shifted slightly, pulling the sheets out of the bottom of the bed in the process, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. He certainly wasn't perfect- there were many things about him that still drove her absolutely mad. He had horrible table manners- the idea of closing his mouth while chewing was lost on him; he was the most uncoordinated wizard she had ever met- how he could be so graceful in the air and such a klutz on the ground amazed her; he had same the ridiculous habit of jumping to conclusions- he was absolutely convinced that one of the Muggle shop owners in the marketplace was always flirting with her; and he was a total slob- he couldn't manage to pick up a single thing, which was a big pet on her list of peeves. Notwithstanding, she expected that these little irritants were all part and parcel of the marriage gig. What mattered most was that she loved him.

And she did love him.

In fact, Hermione not only had the luxury of calling Ron her lover, but she could also call him her best friend. They had been through quite the traumatic experience and, as a result, had formed a bond that was neigh impenetrable. When all was said and done, the comfort she felt with Ron was immensely satisfying and could not be duplicated. Admittedly, there were no earth shattering explosions or grandiose fireworks, but she was content with the ease of their relationship. In truth, she felt that they had evolved past all the clichéd and idealistic rubbish commonly associated with 'The One'.

Hermione stood up and walked carefully through the narrow corridor that connected her bedroom to the ensuite. She closed the door behind her and faced the mirror, giggling at her reflection. Her hair was a _total_ mess. The light breeze drifting in through her open window had managed to aid several unruly ringlets in their escape from her hyper-extended hair tie. She tugged on one of the curls playfully and shook her head. No matter what she did, her hair would _always_ be the untamable beast. Pulling it up into a tight bun, she turned on the faucet and began washing her face. She had an early meeting with the head of the Ministry's Codicology Department and she needed to get a move on. Ron had the night shift, so the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wouldn't expect him for hours, though he _would_ have to head home before flooing to the Ministry.

Early on in their relationship, Ron and Hermione had made the decision to hold off on cohabitation until after they were married. Ron lived in Diagon Alley with his brother George in a small flat over Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. After Fred had passed, George had fallen into a horrific depression- shutting out all but Ron. Eventually, the youngest male Weasley decided to move in with his brother in an effort to help reunite the suffering family. It had taken some time, but George had finally come round and, consequently, Ron had been staying with Hermione more frequently. Regardless, he respected their decision to wait until after they were married to move himself in. Hermione found it all rather amusing- he stayed there five out of seven nights of the week, had his toothbrush in her bathroom and a number of robes in her closet, and even had a Quidditch magazine subscription delivered to her home. He was practically living there already, so what did a bloody license matter?

Glancing at a clock on the wall, she gasped in surprise- she _really_ needed to hop to it. She pulled back the shower curtain, revealing a large, cast iron tub, and switched on the shower. Peeling off her white, satin robe, she hung it on a nearby hook and stepped into the stream. The warm water felt wonderful and she closed her eyes, reveling in the relaxing sensation.

Before she new it, a pair of arms had encircled her waist and lips nipped playfully at her neck. She inhaled sharply as her body was pulled backwards, landing against a broad, chiseled chest. It had been mere hours since their last tryst but, obviously, her fiancé was ready for more. Turning her slowly around, he ran his large hands over her slight shoulders and down her arms. Gooseflesh followed and she sighed as he fingered the skin of her abdomen. She gazed up into his bright blue eyes and stifled a gasp- a look of absolute voracity had taken over his usually coy features and he grinned lecherously as his eyes traveled over her lithe figure.

Hermione's mind drifted as Ron continued to caress her body. _Mmm, that's nice…I wonder what I should wear today- I really need to make a good impression._

Hermione's mind suddenly snapped to attention and she reeled backwards, attempting to escape Ron's purposeful grasp. She needed this to stop before things got out of hand.

"Ron I really don't have the time-"

He pulled her against him, effectively silencing her with a hungry kiss. Hermione attempted to break away but Ron held fast and, with delicate determination, slid his tongue over her lips. She felt a subtle warmth travel slowly through her body and her mind began to swim as his hands skimmed over the curve of her hip. Though she was vaguely aware of her limited time, she allowed him to pursue his ministrations, bringing her to the brink twice before he finally allowed her to continue getting ready.

Although her pleasurable indulgences had not kept her from her morning meeting, she still felt unorganized and a bit frazzled. She had risen early that day in order to prepare, but Ron had had other ideas and, as a result, she had little to no time to get ready for work. She rushed around the little cottage like a chicken with its head cut off, Ron looking on in amusement. This had irked her to no end. It was his bloody fault she was late, couldn't he at least attempt to help her get things together?

He hadn't. The git had sat at her kitchen table, reading the Prophet and eating a biscuit with marmalade- and he hadn't even offered to make her one.

Hermione was angry. She was not only completely unprepared for her morning meeting, but she was starving. She flooed into work that day looking quite disheveled- her robes were unclasped and her hair was falling out of a messy bun. Her briefcase was a bulging mess of parchment and texts and she carried a large, leather portfolio that looked as if it had seen better days. She ran through the Ministry's grand lobby, footfalls echoing loudly off the marble floor as she rushed to an adjoining lift. She was completely oblivious to the astonished looks being sent her way- she was that distressed about botching her morning meeting.

Bursting into her office, she muttered incoherently at her bemused assistant, and fled to her desk in a flurry of robes. She threw down her briefcase, its contents spilling out onto the floor, and huffed irritably as she rummaged through a myriad of cluttered heaps piled around the office. Her assistant, Jules Hephel, appeared in the doorway and cleared her throat loudly. Hermione threw the little brunette and an irritated glance and raised a brow.

Jules had been working for Hermione for just over a year. A competent witch and exceptionally organized worker, she was Hermione's most prized possession. She was extremely small, with a short, brunette coif and angular face and she looked as though she had just stepped out of the muggle fairy tale, Peter Pan. Her tiny frame and delicate appearance were pixie like, her fiery temper only adding to the likeness.

Currently, she gazed at her boss with a knowing smile. Nodding her head, she gestured towards the corner of the office and Hermione shifted her gaze, letting out a huge sigh of relief. There, in a little nook, was a neatly organized conference table- all of Hermione's notes, applicable texts, and researched reports were assembled in perfect order.

The untidy woman fell back into her chair. "Jules, remind me to give you a raise," she stated breathlessly

Jules's small smile widened. "I'll be holding you to that," she replied smugly and strode into the room. "Hermione, not to be rude or anything, but, well...you're a total mess! I thought you were coming in early today."

"So did I," Hermione huffed as Jules pulled her up out of her chair, looking her up and down with her brows raised.

Jules bit her lip in amusement. "You do realize that you're wearing one black pump and one blue?"

Hermione looked down and hissed. "Dammit! That man is getting on my last nerve!"

Jules chuckled. "Ron, eh?"

Without waiting for a response, the tiny woman flicked her wand and changed Hermione's mismatched moccasins into a pair of navy sling backs. Her gaze then shifted to Hermione's messy mane and she sighed deeply. "_This_ is going to take me a little more time," she muttered and pushed Hermione back down into her chair.

The little witch pulled Hermione's wild curls out of the tight knot and immediately went to work. She detangled the unruly mass of mane and smoothed the feral ringlets with a beauty charm. Once she had finished, Hermione's hair looked less like a rat's nest and more like a wild explosion of espresso waves.

"Okay, fasten your robes and you're good to go," Jules said proudly. She stepped back and admired her boss's now orderly appearance. There was no doubt that Hermione Granger was a lovely woman- she had grown into her looks as she had gotten older- though her self-confidence was, by far, her most attractive feature. She stood out amongst other witches because of her amazing intelligence and proud comportment. Indeed, such stellar traits had earned her a host of admirers. Ronald Weasley had every right to be jealous- Hermione Granger was in her prime and she could have her pick from a lot of wizards who had fallen for the brilliant witch.

A soft knock on the office door had both women standing at attention.

"Good Morning ladies." Parsifal Privett stood in the doorway to Hermione's office, a wide smile on his handsome face.

Tall and stately, the remarkable wizard was the most elegant man Hermione had ever encountered. He was well-mannered and poised and there was an air of nobility about him. It was odd, she had always thought Lucius Malfoy the most regal of wizards, but after meeting Parsifal, she realized that the elder Malfoy actually looked more self-absorbed than stately.

The gentleman swept into her office, his graceful gait advanced towards the pretty women lightly. His dark hair, flanked by a sprinkle of silver, flopped over the tips of his ears, making him appear much younger than he actually was. His warm, brown eyes dazzled as he looked on Hermione and she felt her stomach flutter under his scrutiny.

She had always fancied Parsifal Privett.

Not only was he the foremost expert on Magical Codicology and Paleography, but he was also extremely attractive for a man his age. When she had first started working for the department, she had suffered a terrible crush- a fact that had thrown her completely off guard. At the time, she and Ron had just gotten engaged. She couldn't understand why she was infatuated with her superior when she was supposed to be focused on her new fiancé. Not to mention that Parsifal Privett was her complete opposite. He was a Pureblooded Slytherin, for Merlin's sake! This alone should have made her recoil, but instead, she found his cunning nature and insurmountable intelligence enthralling.

Hermione smiled politely. "Good Morning Mr. Privett," she replied lightly, "please, do come in."

She glanced at Jules, who was eyeing the man with a sappy expression, and she bit her lip in amusement. Apparently, she was not the only one who found this particular wizard attractive. Nudging the little witch with her foot, Jules snapped her head up. "Eh, what was that Hermione?" she asked, a bit flustered.

Hermione giggled. "Can you attend to Parsifal while I set up the International Floo?"

Jules nodded excitedly. "Yes ma'am!"

Parsifal stepped forward and held up a hand. "Actually, Ms. Granger, there's something I need to discuss with you before we move forward with the Floo Call."

Hermione faced him with a curious expression. "Really? Er, sure…no problem."

She ushered Jules out of the office and closed the door behind her. Privett had taken a seat at the conference table and she promptly joined him. She sat down, folding her hands, and placing them in her lap. "What can I do for you, sir?" she asked hesitantly.

Parsifal looked at her for a moment, his dark eyes shining with an unfamiliar expression, and she suddenly felt a bit apprehensive. She bit her bottom lip and attempted to force back the anxiety that welled inside of her.

"Ms. Granger, I see no reason to beat around the bush," Privett began steadily. Hermione shut her eyes and breathed deeply. "I'm leaving the Ministry."

Hermione's eyes flew open in shock. "What?! B-but…why?" she asked in astonishment.

Privett smiled tentatively. "I'm retiring, Ms. Granger. There's a big world out there and I'd like to experience it…as would my wife. She's been hounding me for the last year to hand over the department but I wanted to ensure that my replacement was ready," he replied with a wink.

Hermione furrowed her brows. She wondered who this 'replacement' might be. As if reading her thoughts, Privett continued.

"Ah, not to worry Ms. Granger, only an individual with an extensive knowledge of books and their history would be qualified to replace me…and that person is currently sitting in this very room."

Hermione blinked. _I'm dreaming…_

Privett barked out a hearty laugh. "Great Merlin, Ms. Granger! Most people have some sort of reaction to receiving a promotion!" he exclaimed with a shake of his head.

Hermione blinked again. "Er, sorry…I think I'm in shock," she replied meekly. "Th-thank you…I don't know what else to say."

She was truly astonished. She couldn't will herself to move from her chair. She stared at Privett's proffered hand in bewilderment- one minute she feared for her job and the next she was the Head of the bloody Codicology Department!!

Privett raised his brows and dropped his hand. He patted her knee and chuckled again. "Congratulations, Ms. Granger. I know you will make me proud when you take over as Expert Paleographer and the Head of the Department of Magical Codicology."


	3. Paladins of Nihil

**Chapter Three: The Paladins of Nihil**

The crew had managed to gather the last of the ancient tomb's artifacts just as day surrendered herself to twilight. Murky shadows, darting in and out of ruins like mischievous children, startled the men as they trekked to and from the chamber's gaping entrance. A thick fog had rolled in from the nearby mountain range, settling over the excavation site like a blanket of swirling cotton and adding to the region's eerie atmosphere. The team worked quickly as they prepared the cache for magical transport, glancing nervously about as they assembled the primordial treasure in a series of rows.

Draco and Ludeck, oblivious to the crew's trepidation, stood a few feet away, bent over a large boulder. The ancient Codex was laid out before them on a piece of non-fibered fabric and they examined it with immense interest.

"Don't you find it odd that a _Muggle_ Codex was protected by magic?" Draco asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

Ludeck bit his bottom lip in thought. "Obviously, this book was protected by magic for a specific reason…what that reason is, I couldn't tell you. I can only sense magic- I can't explain the reasoning behind it. I _can_ tell you that a Fidelius Charm was placed on the tomb and then…that _light_. I don't even know _what_ that was but…it was damn powerful. My senses are still re-acclimating from that little episode," he replied, scratching his broad chin lightly. He gazed at the Codex thoughtfully before adding, "Any idea what language this is?"

Draco shook his head. "Not a clue. That's why I need to get to England. A friend of the family is Head of Codicology and Paleography at the Ministry. If anyone can help me decipher what this book says, it's him."

Ludeck nodded. "Now, if we could only get this bloody cache transported back to Skhodra."

"Speaking of, any idea how much longer it'll take this hoard of trolls to finish up?"

Ludeck snorted and the two men turned, watching as their middle-aged Crew Leader ambled towards a group of magical artifacts. Lester Diggman groaned loudly as he crouched in front of a large, wooden crate and began cataloguing the items his team had unearthed from the tomb. He stopped every so often to make a notation on a brown, wooden clipboard or to re-adjust the tiny, wire-rimmed reading glasses perched at the end of his nose. Perspiration teemed down his leather-worn face and he quickly removed the dark brown fedora covering his salt and pepper head, wiping his ruddy, red cheeks with a sodden, green handkerchief.

From his spot a few feet away, Draco noticed that the ancient statuettes and various busts, lined in tight formations, resembled a regiment of Greek soldier's awaiting command. He smiled in appreciation…Greek history had been something of a hobby and, suddenly, a scene of bronze clad warriors wielding thick, metal swords swept through his mind. Paired deliberately, weapons raised, they partook in artful combat- violent ballets, heightened by the smoky miasma of uncontrollable fires. Fighting with elegance, they switched between guard and assault while taking the enemy with purpose.

However, as the legion of warriors began conquering their enemy, swords clashing with evident triumph, the scene abruptly changed. Darkness, lurking behind the burning fires, slithered in like a surreptitious serpent and ominous flashes of colored light streamed across the hazy field. The soldiers were gone, replaced by men donning pitch cloaks and hoods, their faces concealed beneath thick, bone white masks. The fires grew, licking the sky's underbelly, their flames taking to the trees. An aberrant hissing sound resounded across the field and a pair or ruthless, red eyes seized his already immobile body. Icy perspiration dripped down his back, his hands trembled uncontrollably as memories pelted him relentlessly.

_What the hell is going on? _His mind was reeling. Clenching his fists tightly in an attempt to gain control of his senses, Draco bit down on his bottom lip with excessive force. This place had done nothing but whittle away at the thick barrier that normally kept such recollections at bay and he was quickly beginning to understand why the locals were so afraid of coming up here. After suffering two attacks in the span of four hours he was quite certain that it was the region and _not_ his battered psyche that had spurred the hailstorm of incessant memories.

"Sorry about the delay boys, some of these relics were quite unwilling to forgo their protective charms," Diggman's loud, Southern drawl successfully broke Draco from his terrifying reverie.

He stumbled back a bit, heart pounding wildly, and threw a quick glance at Ludeck. Luckily, the man was so engrossed in examining the Codex he had failed to notice Draco's recent bout with his bastardly memoirs. He turned away from the Australian and surveyed the dimly lit ruins, breathing in and out deeply in an attempt to calm himself. His eyes darted between thick hedges of partial stone, the strange shadows produced by twilight's dusky hand moving of their own accord. A strange chill coursed through his body and he instinctively backed away from the site. He felt _watched_, as if someone lay in wait, ready to pounce. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he _had_ to get the hell out of Albania as soon as possible.

Although the thought of returning to England made him want to retch, he hoped that it might aid him in getting back to that indifferent place within on which he had always relied. Dealing with an onslaught of hellish memories was not his idea of fun. Normally, hunting for treasure helped him forget his cosmic past, but this particular case had caused him nothing but grief. Perhaps returning home would help him re-balance his usually centered equilibrium.

_Yeah, and I'm the Heir of Sodding Slytherin…_He was quite sure that returning home would bring him nothing but turmoil. He'd been away for five years, purposely, and the last thing he wanted to do was come face to face with a past he had tirelessly attempted to put behind him. Notwithstanding, he felt a subtle force guiding him toward England...something new and exciting…and even though he didn't want to go, he knew he would inevitably falter.

Looking down at the Codex, he quirked a brow with intrigue. There was something about the text…an odd magnetism, and he suddenly knew this manuscript was what compelled him to return home, like a lighted beacon flashing across the dark waters of his murky mind, slowly guiding him to his destiny.

Draco scoffed inwardly. _What the hell am I on about…destiny? _Shaking his head free of the ridiculous thought, he strode toward his chief Archaeologist, stopping a few feet from where he crouched, a merciless sneer masking his flustered countenance. Despite his previously confounded demeanor, Draco had not missed Diggman's admission of weakness- a trait he found completely unacceptable.

"Damn those Mycaneans and their pesky protection spells!" he stated waspishly. "Tell me, how is it that a group of highly paid wizards, with a number of worthless suffixes accenting their droll surnames, could not manage to promptly rid a few artifacts of their measly, little charms?"

Diggman faced Draco with a sheepish expression. "Yes, well, it's been a long day and we weren't expecting such a large volume of artifacts."

Draco raised a brow in challenge. "You should _expect_ the unexpected in this line of work," he replied curtly. "Didn't your Muggle father ever teach you that?"

Diggman winced, continuing to catalogue rather than retort to Draco's insensitive quip regarding his heritage.

An amused expression flitted over Draco's pale face and he casually crossed his arms. _Wise decision there, mate…_ He was in no mood to deal with any guff from a ridiculous half-blood, obsessed with his Muggle lineage.

Diggman or 'Diggs', as the crew referred to him, was an American born wizard from the great state of Texas. A proud half blood, his mother was a Pureblooded witch and his father, a Muggle archeologist. Diggs's childhood had been a montage of dusty dirt pits, hard white bone, and the intoxicating smell of soil. Even now, hunkered down in the mire, filthy fingernails scratching against smooth parchment, he breathed in the musty, earthen smell and openly relished its pungent appeal. Anyone could see it- archaeology was like oxygen, and the impending reverence it provoked towards his father was paramount.

Regardless of his veneration, the man did not dare provoke an able wizard such as Draco Malfoy. Although the middle-aged man was handy with a wand, he was nowhere near as skilled as his younger counter-part. Diggs had spent much of his life doing things the Muggle way- the feeling of accomplishment invoked by physical labor beating out any high he'd ever experienced with magic. Nevertheless, however much Draco thought him a bit mad for believing such rubbish, he had eventually learned to respect the man's diligence. In his good opinion, it was better to have someone so meticulous run his crew as opposed to some lazy, wand-flicking prick with no direction.

"Just get a move on," he growled irritably. 'I don't have time to sit around on a bloody rock in the middle of no man's land waiting on a load of geriatric gents."

"Right-o," Diggs replied, wrinkling his nose. He hated it when Draco referred to his age, but it usually did the trick.

Indeed, it seemed to light a fire beneath the man's arse. Quickly pulling his wand from the waistband of his trousers, he flicked the sleek baton and conjured a number of silver tags. Each one had an alphanumeric sequence engraved into its face and, as Diggs whipped his wand towards the artifacts, each tag floated towards a specific relic and settled over it with a sticking charm.

Draco returned to his spot next to Ludeck, wrapping the Codex in fabric and placing it in a plastic bag. He tucked it up under his arm and sat down on the boulder with a heavy sigh.

"So much for a little leisure time in Skhodra," he muttered crossly. "I thought I might get a little quim before heading back to dismal, old England."

Ludeck shot him a toothy grin. "Ah mate, there's always time for _that_," he replied modestly, albeit with quite the predatory expression.

Draco laughed. He really _had_ found himself the perfect partner. Not only was Ludeck extremely intelligent and a great treasure hunter, but he was also just as 'libido driven' as Draco was. The pair had broken hearts all over the Eastern Hemisphere _and_ a few places in the States. They were infamous, or perhaps notorious, and despite their penchant for leaving women high and dry, they had no trouble whatsoever getting together with last week's sister, or sister-in-law for that matter, without an earful of admonishment. There were no rules, there was no affection- it was just sex, plain and simple…and it was _damn_ good.

"Hmm, perhaps you're right…" he replied with a wink. He was feeling better already. Shooting the breeze with Ludeck and antagonizing the crew usually made up for any major emotional setbacks and it certainly seemed to be working at the moment.

In a little less than an hour, the crew had managed to gather, catalogue, and store the cache into three massive crates. Draco marked each box with his symbol- a black dragon donning a single M on its belly- and an Anti-Theft charm. Diggs attached a small metal ring to each of the crates- portkeys to Draco's warehouse in Skhodra, a large city about a hundred kilometers away. The rest of the crew prepared to apparate, striding to a point in the distance, while Draco and Ludeck hung back to do a final sweep.

Loud cracks filled the air, signaling the disapparation of their crew, and Ludeck faced Draco with a solemn expression. "If you're ready then," Bryce murmured. He sounded tightly wound, like he needed a stiff drink.

Draco nodded. "Hop to it, mate. I'd like to get out of here while we're still young and attractive."

Ludeck smirked as he strode toward the tomb's entrance, his wand held out in front of him. Draco watched as he disappeared into the ruins, the same eerie shadows engulfing his stocky frame as he broached their murky domain. He heard Bryce's familiar accent mutter 'Lumos', but the flash from his wand was brief, followed by a distinctive scuffle.

Draco was on his feet, his wand raised in defense. He shoved the Codex into the breast pocket of his coat and stared into the fortress's dark shell.

"Bryce?" he called. His thick inflection echoed ominously through the scattered stone.

No reply.

Furrowing his brow, he took a hesitant step forward. It was quite possible that Ludeck had entered the tomb and simply could not hear him, but Draco was hard pressed to believe it. Plus, it didn't explain the odd scuffling sound he had heard.

"Ludeck!" he shouted and, this time, his voice resounded outward, spilling over the valley below.

"Keep it down," a menacing voice threatened, "or I may just divest your friend of his life."

Draco's eyes widened as Ludeck was ushered forward by a large, thickset male with dark features and golden highlights. He had a single diamond stud in his left ear and a bright blue sphere inked into the skin of the sausage-like arm twisted around Bryce's neck. He looked a lot like a beefy surfer and he eyed Draco with a significant amount of caution. A silver dagger was pressed against the soft flesh of Bryce's throat and the wide blade glinted as the moon's pale glow peered over the mountain summits and shimmered down on the isolated promontory.

Draco's heart began to pound as sheer fury coursed through him. "Who the hell are you?" he asked icily.

The man laughed. It was a throaty, hollow sound that made something inside Draco quiver with anxiety. "Now, now Mr. Malfoy, I'm quite sure we can proceed without the colorful language."

Draco sneered viciously. "Now, now," he mocked, "I'm quite sure I could widen that shite eating gob with a simple flick of my wand."

The man's amusement ebbed and he frowned in disapproval. "Ah, and here I was under the impression that you actually _cared_ about your partner…_pity_," the man retorted, pressing the blade against Bryce's neck more forcefully.

Draco raised a brow. He could read people rather well and was quite sure that Moondoggie would hold off on hurting Bryce. Besides, it was obvious that he had something the surfer wanted, which indubitably meant that he was in control of the situation. Being a Slytherin certainly had its merits.

"What is it that you want?" Draco inquired glibly.

The man snickered with intent, as if he knew something Draco did not. "I want the Codex, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco scoffed. "And why is that?"

"I'm not of liberty to divulge the reasons why my…_organization…_would like to gain ownership of that little manuscript. I can only tell you that they want it, and will do _anything_ to get it," the man replied cryptically.

"Organization?" Draco wondered aloud.

"That's right…not that you would ever have heard of it…the Paladins of Nihil are far superior to a load of worthless, wand wielding, wizards…_pathetic_. "

Draco chuckled. "Well, you're right about one thing, I've never heard of the Penguins of Nepal. Sorry to disappoint."

Moondoggie narrowed his eyes. It's _Paladins of Nihil_, wizard, and if I were you, I'd watch my tongue."

Draco smirked triumphantly. "I expect that threat was supposed to invoke some sort of dramatic response but, alas, I'm afraid your pitiful attempts at intimidation have fallen rather short…_pathetic_."

Moondoggie cracked a genuine smile. "I think not."

As soon as the words left his lips, Draco felt movement behind him. If there was one thing he had learned in a houseful of Death Eaters, it was to watch your bloody back. Quick as lightening, he spun around and dropped to one knee. His stunning curse shot out like rapid fire, well aimed and deliberate, and it struck with purpose. The red-toned ray slammed into the thin man who had crept up behind him. His lanky frame teetered forward and he dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

"Dammit! You'll pay for that you little shite!" the surfer screamed and Draco heard Bryce's sharp intake of breath. As quickly as he could, he rolled sideways, pulled up his wand, and shot another stunning curse, this time directly at Bryce.

Though his partner would likely kick his arse for it later, it was the only method of protection he could come up with on such short notice. Fortunately, the dicey decision seemed to work in his favor and the stupid surfer grunted as he tried to keep Bryce's stocky frame upright. Eventually, the sheer weight of an unconscious, full grown man caused him to topple forward and Draco launched himself off of the ground and towards Ludeck, grabbing hold of his partner just before the pair slammed to the ground. Abruptly, a familiar image shot through Draco's mind and, without rational thought, he turned on the spot.

As he twisted, he felt Moondoggie grab ahold of his arm and then, a shrill cry, just as the sensation of apparition took over. He vaguely wondered where he was headed- the image had been so abrupt that he could not even remember what, or where, it was. He held onto Ludeck tightly as they soared through the tight rubber tube and, as feet met ground, the pair crashed into a heap of tangled limbs.

Draco pulled Ludeck's arm off of his face, and the other off of his chest, and another off of his…_What in Merlin's Holy Hell?!_

Draco shouted in alarm, flinging the severed arm in his hand across a surprisingly familiar room. He glanced around, eyes widening in astonishment as they slid over the domed ceiling, ornate dental moldings, and lush damask wallpaper. Of all the places in the big, bright world, he just _had_ to end up at Malfoy Manor. Taking a deep breath, he hoisted himself off the floor and stared at the bedroom in silence. He felt almost inept- like being reintroduced to riding a broom after years of remaining grounded. It was awkward yet strangely intimate. He walked around the room slowly, appraising its contents with artful precision. It was exactly how he remembered it- heavy, antiques in rich, dark woods lined the fabric covered walls, while plush, woolen rugs from Persia covered the opulent mahogany floors. A mammoth four-poster bed crowned in swaths of hunter green velvet sat in the center of the room, flanked by matching breakfronts and a pair of antique, sterling sconces. The bed faced a set of wide windows and Draco instinctively approached them, gazing out of the beveled glass at sets of stacked gardens that meandered for miles. In the distance, a winding river sparkled under a heavy night sky, bright stars shining down on its rippling, crystal surface.

It had been some time since he looked on such breathtaking sights. Sights that took him back to his youth- a time when no one could catch the clever boy dodging the mineral plinths in the vast sculpture garden or riding his broom above that river, dipping a single hand into its icy depths as he streamed past at breakneck speed. These perfect, untouchable memories were evidence of life's irony. The truth of the matter was- things never stayed the same. Life was so morbidly modulating that no one could ever count on it. He was the perfect example of such a theory- he should have been married by now, with a child on the way, attending luxurious parties and tossing Quidditch stats back and forth with sodding Potter and his ginger haired sidekick. Instead, he stood alone in his childhood room, gazing out at a past that had successfully fooled him into thinking that things would be different, that they would be _good_.

Tearing himself away from the agony, he wiped his eyes, growling in anger at his weakness. He was through with being weak...he was through with such gobshite!

Spinning around, he ambled quickly over to the severed arm lying a few feet away. Bending down, he gazed at the bright blue sphere inked into the forearm. This certainly explained the ridiculous shrieking upon disapparation…apparently ol' Moondoggy had splinched himself. _What a moron..._

Spinning the appendage right side up, Draco noticed a single, Greek phrase etched into the skin below the misty sphere.

It read: _Verily at the first, Chaos came to be…_

He frowned. He knew that phrase. He had come across it in his studies. Biting his bottom lip, he thought about all that had happened that day. The chest, the Codex, the strange, unstoppable light, the poem about Pandora_…Merlin's Salty Sack...Hesiod!!_

The chest that had held the Codex had an inscription etched into its top- a verse from Hesiod's _Theogony _that had centered on Pandora_. _The _Theogony _was a poem laying out the geneologies of the gods in ancient Greece. The tattoo on the man's arm, once again, from the _Theogony, _but this time centered on Chaos. Suddenly, Draco knew that the answers he sought lay within the pages of the Codex, he also knew, now more than ever, that he had to get to Parsifal Privett, and _fast_.

Pulling Ludeck into his four-poster, Draco pulled the curtains on his massive window and turned to face the empty, darkened room.

"Dinky," he whispered.

Suddenly, a loud crack sounded in front of him and a sobbing house elf threw herself at his feet. "Oh, Master, I's so glad to see that you is okay!" Dinky cried, rubbing her tear soaked face on his mud caked boots.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, alright Dinky, as you can see I'm perfectly fine. Now, I need you to do me a favor," he stated firmly and the house elf looked up at him with wide, watery eyes.

"I's do anything for you, Master Draco," Dinky whispered breathlessly and gave him a little courtesy.

Draco couldn't help but smile. This damn house elf had been obsessed with him for years. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she had a crush on him. "First of all, no telling my parents that I'm here," he said resolutely, 'I will inform them of my presence in my own time. That goes for the rest of the elves as well, so spread the word."

Dinky nodded obediently and Draco continued. "Second, I need you to take care of my friend Bryce. He was stunned earlier this evening and will likely need a pain potion once he wakes."

Dinky looked at the slumbering Australian and wrung her hands. "I is hoping that he be alright, Master," she whispered softly.

Draco smirked. "He'll be fine, he just needs some rest." He patted the elf on her little head. "Now…third, I need you to get word to my men in Skhodra. Send them an Owl under Malfoy seal advising them that Bryce and I will meet up with them next week. They are to leave the cache in my wharehouse until I send instructions via Patronus."

"Yes, Master!" the little elf replied diligently. "I's go right now!"

"Oh, Dinky, I'll be needing a change of dress clothes. I am meeting with Parsifal Privett in the morning and I need to look my very best."

Dinky smiled broadly. "Oh, yes Master Draco! I's can do that, I is bringing you the best suit you is got!"

Draco nodded in approval. "Good Dinky. In the meantime, I'll be doing research in my private study. Please come and get me at eight o'clock sharp."

"Yes, Mater Draco, I's will be doing it!!" the elf replied excitedly and, with another loud crack, disappeared from the room.

Over the next few hours, Draco rifled through old, leather bound volumes, looking for any reference to the Paladins of Nihil. If these nitwits were after the Codex, he needed to know who they were…and why they were after his booty. Perhaps it would also give him a clue as to what may lie in the Codex's pages.

Surprisingly, the only reference to 'Paladin' was an excerpt regarding the _paladins, _or foremost warriors, of Charlemagne's court in the literary cycle known as the _Matter of France. _There were also several references to _paladin _being connected to _palatine-_ high-level officials in Rome's imperial and royal courts. 'Nihil', which in Latin means '_nothing', _had specific connections to a late 1700s German philosopher named Friedrih Heinrich Jacobi, who coined the term 'nihilism' while characterizing rational thought. It is the idea that life is without meaning, purpose, or intrinsic value. Further, it is the idea that there is no destiny, no greater plan or agenda that dominates life.

The theory was nothing new. It had been so during Grecian times, when those who would do away with the Fates worshipped the ideals of a society free of state interference, and it was so now, with the current trend of anarchism coursing through the veins of modern society.

Shutting the large volume in front of him, Draco yawned and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day and he was suddenly feeling the heavy effects of exhaustion. He lay his head on the table in front of him and, just as he was drifting off to sleep, a loud crack made him shoot up in his chair and glance around in surprise.

"I is sorry Master Draco, but you is asking me to brings you this change of clothes and here I be," Dinky said, bowing lowly.

Draco yawned again. "Thank you Dinky…it's already eight o'clock?"

"Yes sir, Master Draco, it be eight o'clock sharp!" Dinky proclaimed proudly.

"Any movement from our patient?"

"He not be moving yet, Master Draco. But I's will be telling him when he wakes up, telling him where Master Draco go and telling him to stay put, I's will!" Dinky bumped her tiny fist on Draco's desk and he couldn't help but snigger at her determination. The thought of a tiny house elf restraining big, bad Bryce Ludeck was quite amusing, indeed.

"Thank you Dinky. I'll be dressing now." Draco stood up and pulled off his khaki cargo jacket. "Any chance of getting a bit of breakfast?"

"Breakfast be in your room, Master Draco," Dinky replied with another graceful bow and abruptly disapparated.

After putting on the dapper suit Dinky had provided, he gave himself a once over and nodded in approval. _Even with no sleep I look damn good…_

He sat down to enjoy a breakfast of hot biscuits, marmalade, and fresh grapefruit. A carafe of coffee had been brewed up for him and he downed it rather quickly, hoping that the burst of caffeine in his bloodstream would get him through this meeting without looking like a total nitwit.

He flooed into the Ministry without incident, apparently the floos were no longer blocked to the Malfoy family. Stumbling out of the large firebox, he looked up at the Ministry's grand foyer and took a deep breath. There were masses of witches and wizards bustling towards the lifts at the end of the hall and, dropping his head, he fell in line behind a lanky wizard with jet-black hair. The crowd pushed him into the lift and he scowled as several people squeezed against him. _I feel like a blasted sardine!_

Before the lift doors could close, a young brunette witch bounded inside. She was quite pretty- tiny figure, angular face, short pixie like coif. She giggled as she clumsily bumped into the lanky wizard just in front of Draco, muttering an apology playfully. Closing his eyes, Draco inhaled her sweet perfume- it was floral and quite captivating. There was no doubt about it- this girl was his type. After dropping in on Privett, he might just have to drop in on the little pixie, too.

The lift door opened and a voice announced the current floor. "Level Two: Research, Codicology & Paleography."

Draco opened his eyes, a sly grin spreading over his face as he watched the same pretty pixie scamper off the lift and strut down the hall. His eyes traveled down her little frame, resting on the pert backside accentuated by a fitted pencil skirt. Her slender hips swayed hypnotically and he licked his bottom lip lightly. Indeed, he was so engrossed in her delicious backside that he barely registered the door she had just walked through. Looking up, his sly grin turned to one of absolute victory.

_Codicolgy & Paelography: Department Head _

Things certainly seemed to be playing in his favor. Obviously, he had every intention of getting more than information about the Codex now. After he was done with Privett, he'd be 'doing' the pixie, there was no doubt about it.

Throwing his head back confidently, he opened the office door and breezed inside- his old, sanctimonious demeanor propelling him towards the little witch with gusto. He fixed his eyes on her ever widening ones and threw her his most seductive smirk.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he drawled wickedly. "I come in looking for Parsfal Privett but instead I find an angel."

Sure it was clichéd, and possibly a little trite, but it seemed to do the trick. The tiny, brunette witch looked him up and down slowly, her brown eyes fluttering as they met his sultry, silver gaze.

"Er…" She bit her lip and flushed a bright scarlet. Damn, she was cute.

"I'd have thought that all that time away would have provided you with better pickup lines," a familiar voice rang out from behind him.

Draco closed his eyes, praying to Merlin and his hopelessly saggy sack that the woman standing behind him was not who he thought it was.

"And as for Privett, well, sorry to burst your bubble, _Malfoy_, but he's no longer in charge of this department."

Draco opened his eyes and slowly turned around. _Dammit! My life is a bloody _bitch_…_The woman standing just behind him was the last person he wanted to see. Sure, she was certainly a sight to behold (growing up had obviously been good to her…_and_ to that blasted body), but that still didn't change the fact that he was face to face with the most annoying creature this side of the ruddy Sudan.

Draco sighed heavily. "_Bugger_ me."

"Likewise…_ferret_." Hermione Granger crossed her arms and shot him her infamous death glare of doom.

This was _not_ going to be a good day.


	4. Unpleasantries

**Chapter Four: Unpleasantries**

Hermione Granger was floored.

She could _not_ believe who was standing in her office. Draco Malfoy had been absent from her life for five long, magnificent years. Yet, here he stood, in all his supercilious glory, hitting on her assistant like some randy little tosser. _Evidently, some things never change…_

She crossed her arms, shooting him the portentous glare she had perfected during their time at Hogwarts. Her dark eyes raked over his fit form with subtle interest. He had changed considerably since last she saw him- the slim, gangly teen she remembered had been replaced by a tall, well developed young man. He was still pale as ever, with the same platinum coif and startling, silver eyes, but his angular face had softened with age and there was something different about his posture. It was almost…_defeated_.

She could easily recall how he had strutted through the halls of Hogwarts castle like some stately royal, looking down on passing peasants with stout contempt. Yet now, he seemed…different. His 'better than thou' deportment trumped by this modest and almost half-hearted aristocracy- its disquieting effect so converse to his previous attitude that Hermione nearly gasped in disbelief. She found herself in a state of total intrigue, his obvious misery tugging at her heart strings, and she wondered what had happened to cause such a pathetic turn.

Although she could see that Draco Malfoy was not the same person he had been, it was not for lack of trying on his part. He had immediately thrown up his typical, cocky façade- but it lacked the conviction it had once possessed, and she realized, almost instantaneously, that beneath that cold, Malfoy exterior laid absolute chaos. It mattered not that he tried to hide it- Hermione's intuition was spot on and she could clearly see through his false countenance. It was an illusion, forged to conceal the magnitude of his condition from any who might attempt to seek him out. Again, she found this development quite fascinating and she raised a brow as her gaze wandered deftly over his dapper three-piece suit, neat silver tie, and eventually settled on his familiar face.

Notwithstanding his obvious ineptitude, the notorious Malfoy smirk was still hale and hearty.

"Hermione Granger," he drawled, "and to what do I owe the displeasure?"

Hermione mentally kicked herself. What had she been thinking, feeling sorry for the little git?

"This is _my _office, _Malfoy_," she retorted icily. The familiar sensation associated with Draco Malfoy began to well inside of her. She likened it to the pre-launch of a nuclear missile.

He shook his head, the annoying smirk on his pale face growing more profound. "I beg to differ, _Granger_," he stated with pat deliberation. "Everyone knows that this office belongs to one Parsifal Privett- _not_ some insufferable know-it-all with aspirations of heading up the big, bad book department."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I see you're still a foul, loathsome, little cockroach."

Malfoy sneered. "And _I _see that you're still an annoying, little bookworm. Tell me, oh great Gryffindork, how many librarians did you have to shag in order to land a job in this department?"

Hermione's mouth fell open in astonishment, the slight action causing the irreverent Slytherin apparent satisfaction. The able grin resulting from her bewilderment was entirely too triumphant and she forced herself to summon every bit of restraint within in order to keep from hexing the little tosser.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled tightly. "While I would love to continue this trite little trip down memory lane, unfortunately I have a career to attend to."

She squared her shoulders and eyed him intensely. "Jules, be a dear and show Mr. Malfoy the _door_." She punctuated each word with pure venom and threw him her most ominous glare. Malfoy shuffled impatiently under her steely gaze and heaved a weighty sigh.

"I'm not leaving until I talk to Privett," he avowed with staunch resolution.

Hermione sighed petulantly. The prat _still_ didn't believe that she was Head of Codicology. _Leave it to him to exhaust the subject- he'd never believe the explanations of a filthy, little Mudblood… _This she knew to be all too true. In fact, there wasn't a single instance, in her sharp recollection, where the great Draco Malfoy had set aside his silly Pureblood elitism and attempted to get on with her amicably. Even now, years after the war had ended- he still found it impossible to give her the modicum of respect she so justly deserved! She had helped in saving his sorry arse in the Room of Requirement- didn't that warrant at least a little bit of gratitude?

Seething inwardly, she could feel her internal missile gearing up for launch- steam was likely billowing from her ears. The only welcoming thought that had surfaced through her ample irritation was that of turning tail and slamming the door to her office right in his arrogant face. Draco Malfoy was the only boy who had ever invoked such passionate fury, and it seemed, despite his own personal misgivings, that he hadn't completely lost his touch.

"Well?" he pressed. He wore an aggravated expression and tapped the toe of his dragon hide boot on her shiny, wooden floor.

Hermione gritted her teeth. Rather than engage in another futile argument, she bit her tongue and ignored his inquiry, instead shooting Jules a potent smile. Casually, she turned towards her office (and concomitant escape) and launched herself towards the open doorway. All she had to do was get through the opening and the nightmare standing in her office would abruptly disappear. _I'll just flee the scene…Jules can sweep him out the door and it'll be like I never experienced this horrid blast from my freakish past. _

Although she had made some decent headway, her clever exit was momentarily foiled by a sudden, vice-like grip on her upper arm. She glanced down at the five pale fingers that had wrapped themselves around her slim bicep- their alabaster complexion distinct against the natural olive pigment of her skin. The fact that Draco Malfoy was touching her slowly sunk into her overly analytical brain and a series of synapses fired off in swift sequence. Several thoughts occurred to her simultaneously and she attempted to sort them out as they descended on her in an overwhelming invective: _Why is he touching me? He always recoiled whenever I approached him in school … Perhaps his take on Muggleborns has changed- there wouldn't be any other reason for this … Furthermore, why is his skin so hot? It's radiating warmth over my entire arm! … Who cares- he's touching you! Hex him! Hex the bastard!! _The combination of flagrant emotions boggled her mind and she shook her head, willing the confusing jumble to stop their persistent rumbling so she could muster a single, not to mention rational, thought.

When she finally managed to clear her head, a loud gasp slipped from her parted lips and she quickly pulled her arm from Malfoy's grip. Pointing her wand- that had somehow made its way into her hand- she aimed it directly at his head and narrowed her eyes. Rubbing her free hand over the skin of her upper arm, she furrowed her brows in confusion. The heat from his touch still radiated over her exposed skin and the discomfiting aspect to the situation was starting to affect her greatly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, Granger," he huffed. His cheeks were slightly flushed and she realized that he was miffed by her reaction. _Well, what does he expect?_

"Touching a Muggleborn? What _would_ your father say?" she hissed.

Malfoy's chagrined expression segued to utter fury. "I really don't _care_ what he'd say," the Slytherin growled. "You'd think my absence would tip such a clever witch off to the obvious chasm in the Malfoy family. Apparently, I thought a little too highly of your intelligence."

"Right…because I _really_ have the time to analyze the family dynamic of a bunch of Death Eaters." She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and straightened her posture.

"Watch your mouth Mud…" He trailed off, looking down at the floor in either loathing or embarrassment- she couldn't tell which. Not that it mattered either way, Hermione had reached her internal breaking point and she promptly exploded.

"Finish it Malfoy! Finish that _witty_ remark!" she cried, dark eyes widening in sheer ferocity as she poked his chest harshly with her wand.

He looked up at her through fringy, platinum locks, his silver gaze denoting some sort of hidden emotion. He seemed unable to speak- his face contorting into a sheepish frown, and he shook his head as she continued to jab him with the smooth baton.

Despite his best efforts to pacify the situation by remaining silent, Hermione would not be deterred. "_Mudblood_!" she screamed. "Go on, say it! I'm giving you permission, just this once, to really let me have it. To explain that, regardless of wars and civil rights, you still think of me as some filthy little Mudblood…no better than the dirt caking your boots."

Hermione's chest heaved and she felt as though her heart might explode out of her chest. Standing head to head, she couldn't help but think back to their third year, when she had slapped the arrogant expression off his pale, pointed face. Malfoy certainly looked as though he had just been smacked- an expression identical to the one he wore all those years ago taking over his visage- the only thing missing, the impressive, red welt hand print.

"Go on Malfoy," she growled. "Say what you've likely been dying to say to me for years…or are you still the same cowardly little git who relies on others to do his bidding?"

"You better not be implying what I think-"

"What would I be implying, Malfoy?" Hermione interjected harshly. "That you're a hack who had to rely on his godfather to do all the hard work you so diligently boasted about?"

A stony silence enveloped the room and something flashed in Malfoy's eyes- something familiar- a single moment of obvious regret, and she felt her breath catch as he looked away from her and shut his eyes. His pained expression caused a sudden wave of guilt to wash over her and she bit her lip in earnest. Had he actually felt something for someone other than himself? It was a long shot in her opinion, and the brevity of his sentiment only added to her theory as the same, contemptuous glare she had become so accustomed to slid over his elegant features.

"Forget I came by," he spat, bowed mockingly, and swept out of her office- the heavy oak door slamming shut behind him with such force that both women flinched respectively.

Hermione glanced at Jules and shot her a rueful smile. The little witch stared at the door, cheeks flushed, a rather uncomfortable expression marring her angelic features. Hermione immediately berated herself for allowing the ridiculous argument with Malfoy to go on for as long as it had.

"Jules, I apologize for that little squabble," Hermione began tentatively. "You see, Draco Malfoy and I have never gotten along…and, well, it seems that even five years has done little to lessen the animosity between us." She blew a rebellious curl out of her face and leaned back against the doorjamb.

Jules nodded slowly, a bemused expression on her pretty face. "Hermione, I have _never_ seen you like that before. Well, actually, I take that back. I've seen you like that once- when you were giving the commencement speech for the International Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. You were completely impassioned…just like today. I'll tell you one thing- Draco Malfoy brings out the beast in you."

Hermione grimaced. Although she knew that Jules was only kidding, it didn't stop her heart from tripling its normal rhythm. She hated the fact that he could so easily rattle her…why couldn't she get a hold of her senses while in his presence? She either physically assaulted the man or lashed out at him in such a ridiculous manner that she ended up looking like a vicious, uncontrollable banshee. He's_ the complete arse yet I end up looking like the ninny…_

Hermione frowned and scuffed her shoe on the floor. "That very well may be, but I'm not about to dwell on an irreconcilable relationship with the bane of my past. He is not, nor will he ever be, a part of my life."

She glanced casually at her watch and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Merlin's Beard! I've got to go- I'm meeting Ginny for lunch in Diagon Alley in exactly ten minutes!"

She slipped into her office and bustled about frantically, grabbing her briefcase and shoving a number of reports into the already overloaded leather satchel. Smoothing her robes, she peered quickly into an ornate, gilded mirror that hung over her credenza and rolled her eyes. Her hair was completely unruly. She dropped her briefcase and began toying with the uncontrollable tresses, gritting her teeth in frustration. After several minutes of trying to tame her mutinous mane, she finally pulled out her wand and smoothed the seditious spirals with a handy beauty charm. Nodding satisfactorily, she pocketed her wand, fixed her collar, and sped out of the office.

Jules hurried around her desk, juggling several pieces of parchment in the process. "Sign these, Shacklebolt needs them by noon…Esther Needlebottom has requested that her library be inspected and appraised. Apparently, she's looking into a new Magical Insurance Policy and she needs us to provide an accurate assessment of her Middle Aged texts. Is next week any good for you?"

Hermione shook her head as she signed the rather hefty pile of parchment Jules had thrust on her. "Ron's been pushing for a mini-break and I promised him months ago that we'd do it next week. Is there anyway we can re-schedule? Ron will kill me if I break our plans."

Jules raised a brow. "Um, I'll look into it and let you know. It may be a bit difficult- apparently Privett had already discussed this next week as a possible option."

Hermione sighed heavily. "I understand. If it's unavoidable Ron will just have to get over it. I suppose an unexpected promotion should be explanation enough for breaking our plans."

"I agree. It's not like you had any idea that you'd be heading up the department when you planned the mini-break," Jules mused. "All the same, I'll look into moving the appointment. Now get out of here! We can't keep the soon to be Mrs. Potter waiting!!"

Hermione nodded appreciatively. "All right, thanks Jules! See you after lunch."

Hermione scurried out of the office, her navy robes billowing behind her as she rushed down the hallway. She halted in front of a pair of golden doors, tapping her toe impatiently as she awaited the lift. Apparently, lunchtime traffic had already begun to gridlock Ministry transportation. When the lift arrived and the doors finally opened, she had to squeeze into a small space at the front. Indeed, the ride was rather uncomfortable, and she practically sprung out of the overloaded winch as the doors slid open.

She hastened down the corridor and hopped into one of the large fireboxes. "Leaky Cauldron!" she cried and, just as the green flames engulfed her, she spotted a familiar blond head and steely, silver eyes.

_Malfoy… _Hermione growled irritably as she surged through a world of filthy fireboxes. When her feet met solid ground, she stepped carefully out of the fireplace and into the large, open barroom at the Leaky Cauldron. Brushing the soot off of her robes, she nodded curtly at a pair of middle-aged wizards enjoying a game of Wizard's Chess. They sat in large, leather armchairs that flanked the hearth respectively, a thick halo of pipe smoke hanging in the air above their heads. As she came more fully into the room, one of them let out a low whistle, startling the pretty witch effectively. She grinned sheepishly as the other winked at her in appreciation.

In truth, Hermione was not at all used to men paying her any mind. She had become accustomed to their reliance on her intelligence as opposed to any sort of romantic inclination- and she was comfortable with that arrangement. However, as of late, she had begun to notice a change in that dynamic. Men had begun to, well..._flirt._ It was all rather discomfiting, one minute she was a book toting brain who couldn't attract a fly, and the next she was fielding advances left and right. Frankly, she was rather tired of the attention. Even now, she felt oddly embarrassed by the cheeky grins being shot her way and she shied away from the chess wielding wizards as though they were covered in Stinksap.

Scurrying towards the bar, she paused momentarily to wave brightly at Tom, but quickly resumed her escape. Stepping into the alley just behind the pub, she pulled her wand and prepared to open the magical doorway. Tapping the bricks in succession, the wall slowly parted, its stony squares spinning like Rubiks Cubes, revealing the busy little burg known as Diagon Alley. She swept through the magical gateway, shielding her eyes from the bright, midday sun as it shined down on the meandering, cobbled avenue. Witches and wizards bustled about, pulling their children along as they wandered purposefully through the magical emporiums flanking the narrow passage.

It was truly a magnificent day, a soft breeze whipped through the tight corridor, setting a display of magical pinwheels to spin. Hermione smiled delightedly as the Muggle toy exploded into an array of bright, swirling colors. The simple charm immediately caught the attention of several children meandering nearby, and they rushed over, letting out a collective gasp as the colors spilled over them.

Hermione chuckled as she hastened down the road. Life was so simple for a child and, at times, she regretted the fact that she had been forced to grow up so quickly. Fighting for a cause can certainly divest a child of its innocence, especially when faced with death. Shaking the offending thoughts away, she swept down the avenue and rounded a corner.

A small café sat a few meters down from her, situated between Olivander's and Madame Malkin's. She stood up on tiptoes, in an effort to catch a glimpse of Ginny and almost immediately, her friend's bright red head leapt out of the crowd. She hurried over to the small table and placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder.

"Ginny!" she sighed breathlessly. Her friend looked up and smiled brightly.

"Mione!" Ginny cried and wrapped the brunette witch in a tight hug. "How are you?"

"As good as to be expected," she replied sheepishly and dropped into the seat across from her friend. "Sorry I'm late…learning to navigate Codicology as head of the department has certainly thrown me for a loop."

"No problem," Ginny replied. "I figured the new position might be a bit of an adjustment. How are you settling in?"

"Pretty well, I suppose. It's a lot of responsibility, but I'm really enjoying myself," she said, taking a sip of water and placing her napkin in her lap. "Oh! You'll never _believe_ who was in my office this morning…"

Ginny's brown eyes lit up and she leaned forward, a hungry expression on her freckled face. "Who?!"

Hermione bit back a laugh. Ginny _never_ shied away from any sort of gossip- it was a wonder she hadn't hooked up with Lavender Brown and the Patil twins during their time at Hogwarts. "Draco bloody Malfoy!"

Ginny had just taken a sizeable gulp of water and she immediately began spluttering wildly, liquid dribbling down her chin and pooling rather inelegantly on the collar of her emerald green robes. Hermione patted her friend firmly on the back and handed her a napkin. "Are you all right?" she asked, an amused expression on her face.

Ginny coughed a few more times but eventually regained her composure. "Yes, yes," she replied weakly. "I'm fine- you just took me by surprise, that's all."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yes, well, you weren't the only one unpleasantly surprised by his re-emergence, that's for sure."

Ginny chuckled. "I can only imagine. What'd you do, whack him again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint Gin, but no- I need to maintain _some_ decorum while at work. Notwithstanding, I found it rather difficult to keep from hexing the little tosser."

Ginny sniggered. "I assume, then, that nothing has changed?"

"You got that right," Hermione replied indignantly. "He's still the same irritating little bastard I remember from Hogwarts. Can you believe he actually implied that I slept my way to the top?!"

Ginny's mouth fell open. "What? You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope. He asked me how many librarians I had to 'do' in order to score the job." She punctuated her speech by making quotes with her fingers.

"What a little shite!" Ginny growled, the distinctive Weasley flush coloring the tips of her ears. "Dammit, now I wish I had been there to give him the what for!"

Hermione couldn't help but giggle as that morning's events replayed in her mind. "Actually, Gin, I did pretty well myself. Though I do think I might have gone a bit far by bringing up Severus Snape."

The redhead looked up, an awed expression on her face. "You did?"

"Yeah…I suppose I _was_ a little harsh…but he deserved it, calling me a Mudblood after all these years!"

"That prat called you a Mudblood?!"

Hermione sneered. "Yes! Well, er…actually, he did stop himself from saying it. But it doesn't matter! The intent was there!"

Ginny took a sip of water and gazed thoughtfully at her friend. "Hmm, perhaps. So, what did he want?"

"Actually, I didn't exactly let him get that far. He wanted to see Privett, but when I told him that he was no longer heading up Codicology, that's when he starting pulling his infamous Malfoy gobshite."

"Ah…so he didn't say _why_ he wanted to see Privett?"

Hermione scoffed. "As if Draco sodding Malfoy would ever stoop to explaining himself to a Mudblood. Look Gin, he already ruined my morning, do you think we could forgo talking about the little git? Frankly, I couldn't care less why, after all these years, he has suddenly reappeared."

Ginny smiled and nodded at her friend. "Of course, Hermione."

Thankfully, Ginny kept her word. She refrained from mentioning Draco Malfoy for the remainder of their lunch. At any rate, the two women had much to discuss, what with Ginny's upcoming wedding and Hermione's new promotion. As the pair finished the last of their meals, the conversation eventually drifted to the status of Ginny and Harry's relationship- something that generally made Hermione rather uncomfortable. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy sharing in the intimate details of her friend's life- it was just that she felt a little out of her element. In truth, Harry and Ginny were significantly different from she and Ron. The future Potter's shared a connection that was unlike anything Hermione had ever witnessed. Their kisses, the way they embraced, even the way they looked at each other was so profound that mere words could not express the absolute intensity of their bond. When compared to a couple that was so obviously immersed in one another, Hermione and Ron's relationship appeared downright obsolete.

As the two friends bid each other goodbye, Hermione found both her mind and body wandering about aimlessly. She couldn't understand why every time she got together with Ginny, she left feeling unsure about her relationship with Ron. It bothered her more than she cared to admit and she stopped abruptly and kicked the wall of a nearby building in frustration. _Dammit! Ron and I are happy together…you are not settling Hermione so just stop second guessing everything!_

"So you beat walls as well? And here I was thinking that I was the only one you liked to assault."

Hermione whipped around, a piercing shriek slipping from her lips. "Malfoy, you git! You scared the crap out of me!"

Malfoy sauntered towards her, a playful smirk on his pale face. "My apologies, Miss Head of the Department," he replied with a mocking bow.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Ah, so now you believe me…"

"Well, I popped into to see an old friend after leaving your office. He confirmed that you had, indeed, been promoted to Head of Codicology. I must say, I'm impressed, Granger," he drawled, running a hand through his platinum locks.

Hermione scoffed. "_You_ have friends?" she shot back in disbelief.

Malfoy pursed his lips. "Yes, I have friends. I'm sure you remember Blaise Zabini, Granger. Tall, good looking, quite a bit of pull with 'ol Shacklbolt…"

"I know who Zabini is, Malfoy!" Hermione spat irritably. "But what I don't know is why the hell you are stalking me. Is it some personal vendetta?"

"You wish, Granger," he replied with a haughty chuckle. "What I need is your expertise, and then I'll be out of your life. So…what say you, will you help me?"

Hermione laughed. It was all so ridiculous. Draco Malfoy was asking her for help? Had hell just frozen over? She looked around hesitantly…no sign of Satanic Snowmen. She glanced up at the sky…no pigs pulling loop-de-loops. What in Merlin's name was going on?

Malfoy snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Today Granger," he muttered, the impatience in his voice was paramount.

"Forget it!" she huffed and smacked his hand away. "You've been nothing but a pain in my arse for the last fifteen years and you expect me to just help you? You're mad!"

Hermione spun on her heel and stalked towards the opposite end of the narrow alleyway. It had gotten considerably overcast and the dimly lit corridor was getting darker by the minute. She heard the distinctive sound of footsteps behind her and she threw an annoyed look over her shoulder. "Quit following me, Malfoy," she stated firmly.

"Come on Granger," he replied beseechingly, "I could really use your help."

"No!" She picked up her pace and, just as she was about to break out onto the main avenue, a stocky figure stepped into the alley. He was of average height, but his build was truly impressive- a massive chest and toned arms…she blinked, thinking that the absence of his right arm was a figment of her imagination. However, as the husky, blond drew near, she made out that he was most definitely missing an arm.

"Granger, watch out!" Malfoy shouted and he clasped her upper arm tightly and pulled her back against his body.

"Let me go, you prat!" she cried, struggling against his strong grip.

"Shite!" Malfoy's eyes widened and Hermione turned her focus to the approaching man.

He was quite close and had been joined by three others- a tall, thin man with a receding hairline and sickly, yellow skin; a lovely, young woman with jet black hair, bright blue eyes, and a dark tan; and a middle-aged gentleman with salt & pepper hair, a dark brown fedora, and muddy khaki trousers. An identical cobalt charm hung around each of their necks- a sphere, roughly three inches in diameter. It seemed to glow on its own and Hermione found herself completely transfixed by the soothing light.

"Diggs?" Malfoy whispered softly.

"Kill the witch, but save the wizard for me. I owe him one," the blond man stated gruffly.

The trio nodded simultaneously, sweeping around the husky blond in a tight and almost predatory formation. It was then that Hermione noticed they all wore identical rings, sporting the same blue sphere. As they advanced, Hermione felt a sudden jolt of fear rush through her and she raised her wand instinctively and muttered a protective charm. The woman, who stood at the head of the small group, waved her hand out in front of her and a blue light streamed out of her ring, slicing through her charm effortlessly.

It was then that three things happened all at once- the trio raised their hands in attack, Draco tightened his grip on her, and Hermione felt her scream die in her throat as they turned on the spot and disappeared.


	5. An Unwilling Plea

**Chapter Five: An Unwilling Plea**

Within seconds, Draco had come to the conclusion that apparition had been the wrong decision.

In fact, he was quite positive that dealing with an advancing group of Paladins, whose talents he was completely unfamiliar with, would have been far more appealing than attempting to manage the vile wench in his arms.

The trip was short, mere seconds really, but that didn't keep Hermione Granger from landing one hell of a right hook during their flight. Draco groaned as her tiny fist struck just below his left eye and he barely maintained a grip on her arm as the pair spiraled chaotically towards earth. They landed in an unflattering heap in the middle of his old boudoir at Malfoy Manor and, as their bodies met solid ground, Granger immediately began to struggle like a maddened hippogriff, pulling frantically at the matronly robes covering her lean frame. The navy frock had tangled between Draco's legs and, as the woman tugged at the dense material, she inadvertently flipped the Slytherin on top of her.

With a squeal of distaste, she began pushing against his chest heedlessly. "Get off of me you lecherous ponce!"

"You think I _want_ to be on top of you?" he shot back with a growl. "You just punched me in the face, you psychotic banshee!"

"If you hadn't kidnapped me then you wouldn't have to worry about your perfectly precious mug!"

"_Kidnapped_ _you_? I saved your worthless life, Granger!"

"Worthless? Oh, so now I'm a _worthless_ Mudblood!"

"Stop putting words in my mouth! I didn't call you a Mudblood!"

"Really? That wasn't _you_ standing in my office earlier today? Wow, I must have been delusional!"

"No argument there…"

She huffed and continued to squirm beneath him, her knee coming dangerously close to his groin. "Ow! Dammit woman, stop moving! I can't get these robes untangled when you keep wriggling about like a blasted flobberworm!"

"I repeat: if you hadn't kidnapped me then we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Draco gritted his teeth. _Why? Why, in the name of all that is magical, did it _have_ to be Hermione _sodding_ Granger?!_

In the short expanse of his life, there had been only one girl who had effectively set his blood to boil- and she was currently wiggling under him like a plimpy out of water. Hermione Granger: clever, strong, determined…irritating. Draco couldn't quite wrap his head round the idea that such a brilliant witch could be so equally infuriating. To put it simply, she was a shrew: her astute nature limited frequently by her considerable temper. She adamantly refused to be amicable and each time the two went head to head, he found himself quivering with anticipation…she ignited something within him- an intensity no other person had ever been able to stir, and he found himself eagerly indulging her sharp criticism. Indeed, it was almost impossible for him to step back from the line of fire- there was something extremely gratifying about conquering this particular wench.

The frustrated twosome continued to struggle, shooting insults at one another respectively. Draco had just managed to untangle himself from Granger's stringent frock when slow, deliberate applause erupted from the mammoth, four-poster positioned a few feet from where they were sprawled. He looked up, immediately narrowing his eyes at the familiar face that peered down at them.

Draco had to admit that any female would certainly find Bryce Ludeck appealing. The handsome, not to mention shirtless, Australian lounged against the bed's upholstered headboard, looking considerably well rested. _The git. _He ran a hand through his unruly coif and yawned, his wide, brown eyes still heavy with sleep. Despite his obvious lethargy, he maintained his typically cheeky comportment. An amused expression adorned his broad face as he surveyed the disheveled pair rolling around on the pristine, mahogany floor. He shot Draco a perceptive wink before allowing his gaze to sweep languorously over Granger's lean legs, which had, to Draco's utter chagrin, been exposed when the hem of her robes caught on his belt buckle. The last thing he wanted was to find Hermione Granger, of all witches, physically attractive. Luckily, her marginal beauty was instantly devoured by her crotchety, not to mention prudish, personality.

Granger also turned to appraise the young man and gasped abruptly, fumbling for her hem as a slow blush crept onto her cheeks. She hugged her knees to her chest, pulling her robes down over her annoyingly lovely legs and glanced between the two men uncertainly. Her normally composed demeanor had begun to falter under the rather unconventional circumstances and she bit her lip in apprehension.

Ludeck, either oblivious to or completely indifferent of her obvious discomfort, shot her his sauciest grin. "I must say, that was one hell of a show," he drawled, tone sleepy, but still a bit sultry.

"Show?" Hermione wondered. She flushed as Ludeck wet his bottom lip with a sweep of his tongue.

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. _Stupid prat…I don't see why he'd even bother- it's not like she's attractive…_He gazed at the witch inconspicuously, appraising her with quite the critical eye. She had grown into her looks- of that much, he was certain- but she was no where near as attractive as the girls either of them usually dated. She had the same, perfect posture that formerly drove him mad- ramrod straight- as well as the ridiculous enthusiasm that always seemed to accompany it. Her hair was also the same- a wild explosion of espresso waves, though not as frizzy as it had been- apparently she had finally learned to master a beauty charm. He raised a brow, eyes wandering dexterously over her small frame- she wore this season's newest 'sleeveless' robe, her toned arms the only part of her figure immediately noticeable. It didn't matter- he had seen what lay beneath that thick cloak back at her office- robes hanging open casually as she eagerly insulted him. It was beyond belief- the little prude he remembered so clearly from school had disappeared, and in her place was an actual _woman_. As he gazed at her face, he admitted that he had never _really_ looked at her closely and, for the first time, he noticed a little spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks and flecks of gold glinting in her dark brown eyes.

_All right…so maybe she's a_ _bit _cute_ but that doesn't make up for the fact that she's a total hag!_ He smirked to himself, only snapping to attention when Ludeck's deep baritone chuckle echoed throughout the room. Draco looked at his partner, noting the predatory expression on his face. It seemed that he had set his sights on Granger, which Draco found unfathomable- and also a bit irksome. Bryce didn't know Granger like he did…how would he go about warning his friend that an overbearing wench lurked beneath that _somewhat_ appealing façade?

"Yes, I've never seen Draco so willing to razz a sheila- especially one so-"

"Aggravating?" Draco piped up, a sullen expression on his pale face.

Granger fumed. "Shut it, Malfoy."

"You shut it, Granger! I did you a favor back in that alley and all you can do is bitch!"

She stood up swiftly and crossed her arms. "I don't recall asking for your help, you prat! I could have handled them on my own…or has my identity conveniently slipped your mind?"

Draco scoffed as he pushed himself off the floor. "_Right_…my apologies, Great Geek of the Golden Trio- I've suddenly remembered myself."

He gave her another mocking bow and she rolled her eyes. "You're such a slimy git."

"Better than a brown nosing prude who's been toying with Weasley's wand," Draco shot back rapidly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He smiled maliciously. "How else do you explain the dead niffler on your head?"

Granger threw up her hands in frustration. "Argh! You are such a conniving little shite!"

"Is that the best you can come up with? I must say, I _am_ disappointed," he replied as he examined his nails glibly.

Ludeck looked on in fascination as the pair continued to bicker eagerly, his head swiveling back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match. However, when Granger began taunting Draco by calling him a ferret, the Australian felt it necessary to interrupt.

"I'm sorry, did you say _ferret_?" he asked with a wicked smirk.

Granger turned towards Draco, a triumphant smile spreading slowly over her face. "_So_…you've never told your little friend that a Professor once thought you so vile, he turned you into a ferret?"

Ludeck snorted loudly. "Playing the guinea ferret, eh Malfoy??"

Granger covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter but, to Draco's vexation, soft almost encouraging giggles drifted out from behind her hands. He scowled at her heartily- it was difficult to believe that such sweet resonance could come from such a wretched, old biddy.

"He was _not_ a Professor…he was a Death Eater, thank you very much." He crossed his arms in a juvenile pout.

"Does that little detail _really_ matter, Malfoy?" Granger asked, clucking her tongue peevishly.

"Granger, I'm warning you…"

"_You're_ warning _me_? _Please_, as if I could _ever_ find such an inept, pathetic excuse for a wizard intimidating!"

"Dammit Granger, I save your life from a crazy band of Muggles and you can't even manage to be the least bit civil…_or_ give me a scrap of thanks!"

"Actually, Malfoy, I'd say we're about even."

"What the hell are you on about? You've never saved my-"

Draco stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as unwelcome memories flooded his mind. Suddenly, violent fire circled around him, its thick, black smoke blotting his vision effectively. Heat, unbearable and strong, surged towards him with purpose and he ran from its advancing reach. The magical pyre swept through the space rapidly, the contents of the Room of Hidden Things only accelerating its blazing course. Wheezing uncontrollably, he gripped his burning throat, coughing as the noxious fumes swept into his barren lungs. The caustic effect was instantaneous, and he felt himself slowing down, swiping half-heartedly at floating embers as he attempted to escape the predatory inferno hot on his heels. Cowering, he peered at the sea of flames progressing towards him, a wave of fire washing fluidly over the room with hypnotic intensity. Tones of red and orange beguiled him with their liquid dance- his only coherent thought- how something so deadly could be so beautiful.

"Draco?" Bryce's voice broke into his muddled thoughts and the blond man flinched.

Looking up, he met Granger's eyes- they held concern mingled with brimming curiosity. "Are you all right?" she asked. The waspish quality to her tone had evaporated, and in its place, disquiet.

Draco sneered as he swayed slightly. "What do you care?"

She sighed heavily. "Malfoy, you look paler than usual- maybe you should cut the crap and take a seat." Her tone was sardonic yet resolute and Draco was hard pressed to argue.

Ludeck appeared behind him and guided the fading Slytherin towards the bed.

"We'll need some water," Granger said off-handedly.

Ludeck nodded. "Dinky."

Abruptly, the little house elf popped into the room, her wide eyes sweeping from Ludeck to Hermione and finally settling on Draco. She flung herself towards her master and cowered before him anxiously. "Master Draco, is you all right?!"

Draco nodded. "Yes, Dinky…I'm fine. I just need some water, that's all."

Dinky stood up and snapped her fingers. A little, gold tray laden with a goblet of water and a plate of biscuits appeared in her hands. She held it out to him, bowing her head reverently. "You is looking so pale, Master Draco. I is giving you these biscuits as well."

Draco smiled curtly. "Thank you Dinky. That will be all."

Dinky curtsied then turned to Bryce and Granger. "You is taking care of Master Draco. I is checking to see that you is doing a good job," she said firmly, bowed curtly, and disappeared with a loud crack.

Granger stared at the spot where the little house elf once stood, an odd expression twisting her visage.

"What?" Draco was irritated by her astonishment.

She started at the sullen quality to his voice. "Nothing…"

Draco snorted. "Right…I assume you're surprised at how well I treat my house elf." He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe now you'll quit relying on unfounded pretensions- people can change, you know."

Granger cocked her head to one side. "You think that your curt attitude towards Dinky is proof of some massive transformation? Please excuse my lack of enthusiasm for such a feeble argument."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Let's get one thing straight Granger-"

"Enough!" Ludeck shouted, waving his hand in aggravation. "The two of you haven't stopped arguing since you landed on that ridiculously polished floor! I think it's about time you _both_ cut the crap and fill me in on what the hell is going on! For example, how I ended up in this rather lavish boudoir?"

Granger took a step forward. "I understand your frustration, honestly. However, it seems to have escaped your attention that I am not exactly a willing participant in this whole charade. So if you'd just let me go you two can continue your little powwow sans unnecessary, not to mention hostile, participant."

Ludeck glanced at Draco curiously. "Why doe she keep insisting that you've kidnapped her??"

"I didn't kidnap her! The Paladins were advancing towards us and I had no other alternative but to apparate the little twit out of there!" Draco replied with a huff.

"Who are you calling a twit, you prat?!" Granger spat coldly.

Draco glared at her, clenching his fists in frustration.

"Paladins?" Ludeck stated warily. "Where have I heard that expression before?"

Granger sighed heavily and turned towards Ludeck. "Paladins are knights. The most common association comes from the _Matter of France_- where the foremost warriors of Charlemagne's court are deemed _paladins_," she spouted knowledgeably. "They are also known as the Twelve Peers and are omni-present throughout _chansons de geste_, heroic chanteys in Old French. They are a symbol of Christian martial valor against any enemy of Christianity's heavy hand. The Twelve Peers were brave knights, similar to King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, and are often compared. It is thought that the actions of these early warriors played into the later grisly Crusades."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't mind the walking text book."

Granger stuck her tongue out at the Slytherin and Ludeck chuckled. "Great Merlin, is it possible for you two to get on at all?"

"No." It was simultaneous and resolute.

"Er…_right_." Ludeck cleared his throat. "Anyway, I know I've heard a reference to the Paladins before this…I just can't put my finger on it." He tapped his index finger on his chin thoughtfully.

Draco sneered. "Diggs, perhaps?"

Ludeck's head snapped up with a gasp. "Bloody oath! I heard him whispering something about Paladins to one of the workers. How would ol' Diggsy know about them?"

Draco stood up and started pacing the floor. "Perhaps because he's one of them, Bryce."

Ludeck's mouth fell open in shock. "What?"

"Look, I really do need to be going- Jules is expecting me," Granger interjected feebly.

Draco growled. "Dammit Granger, can't you see that we need your help?!"

She threw up her hands. "You haven't given me any indication whatsoever of what you need help with, Malfoy!"

He turned, striding over to her with determination. "Fine- I'll give you the short version. We had an excavation in Albania and we uncovered a Muggle Codex under magical protection-"

"Muggle?" Her eyes were widened in surprise.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, Granger…Muggle. Now try not to interrupt." He looked at her for a moment before continuing. "We were able to break through the protection charm and isolate the Codex, but it's written in some sort of ancient language, so we haven't been able to identify exactly what it says."

Granger's interest was peaked, of that, he was certain. She leaned forward, bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes urging him to continue. She had a thirst unlike anyone he had ever known, and with each word he uttered, her body visibly tightened with excitement. He had seen her this way frequently during their time at Hogwarts- in their mutual classes or sitting in the library. Indeed, it seemed that Hermione Granger was easily seduced by knowledge- and Draco had every intention of using this fact to his advantage.

"Once we loaded the other artifacts, the crew apparated to my warehouse in Skhodra and Bryce and I stayed behind to do a final sweep," Draco continued. "You do remember this, don't you Ludeck?"

"I remember heading into the ruins and then…something strange happened. It was like I was stunned…or maybe obliviated. The thing that gets me the most is the fact that I never felt it coming. How is that even possible?" The young Australian frowned as he cracked the knuckles on his left hand.

Draco shook his head. "Perhaps it's because they aren't wizards. I'm not entirely sure what they are, to be honest. All I can tell you is that two men, claiming to be _Paladins of Nihil_, attacked us and I barely got you and the Codex out of there in one piece."

Granger looked down at her hands, toying with the modest diamond that adorned her finger. "Nihil," she whispered softly, "…_nothing._"

Draco nodded. "That's right, Granger. However, it's not where the story ends." He advanced towards the breakfront next to his massive bed and opened the top drawer. Pulling the severed arm, wrapped in a pillowcase, he turned and stalked back over to the pair. "Do you remember the bloke from the alleyway?"

Granger's eyes flickered to the parcel in his arms and then back up to his face. "Which bloke, Malfoy? The stocky blond, the sinewy fellow, or the man with the dark brown fedora?"

Draco smirked. The witch was nothing if not thorough. "The blond- he was missing an arm, yeah?"

"Yes," she replied, the hesitation in her voice quite evident. Her eyes flickered back to the pillowcase. "What is that?"

"I want you both to prepare yourselves," he replied and pulled the arm out of the pillowcase.

Ludeck's mouth fell open. "I'll be stuffed! Is that the bloke's bloody arm?!"

Granger looked a bit ill. "What on earth did you do to the poor man?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"I didn't do anything to him, Granger…but thank you for assuming otherwise," he replied. His tone was like jagged ice and he glared at her obstinately. "The nimrod splinched himself- it's not my concern that he was daft enough to grab hold of a wizard during apparition."

Granger looked down at her feet. "Oh…I just assumed-"

"You just assumed that I'm some horrible monster who would dismember someone." Draco spat angrily.

Granger frowned. "I assure you Malfoy, I made no assumptions about your intent. I wholeheartedly believed that it was in self-defense. If anything, I thought it a bit extreme, that's all." She crossed her arms and scuffed her shoe on the wooden floor.

Draco's malicious glare softened slightly. "Whatever," he muttered, "I want you both to look at this tattoo. Have either of you ever seen it before?"

Granger and Ludeck stepped forward and bent over the severed arm. The tattoo was a vivid blue against the dark pigment of the man's skin- though it was quickly turning a sickly green and Draco noted a rather rancid aroma drifting from the appendage.

Ludeck shook his head. "Never seen anything like it, mate."

Granger stared at the tattoo, brows knitted together. "Verily at the first, chaos came to be." She read the Greek inscription inked into the beefy, brown limb.

"Yes, it's-"

"Hesiod," she stated quickly, "from the Theogany." She bit her lip as she walked away and began to pace back and forth in front of the bed. "Tell me, Malfoy…how is chaos usually described?"

"Disorder," he replied. His tone was slightly patronizing and Granger raised a brow.

"_Obviously_- but I meant physically," she shot back. "Have you ever heard of Chaos being described as a rough, unordered mass?"

Draco looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose."

"How about a womb?" She faced him with expectant eyes and he frowned. Admittedly, he had never read anything that associated Chaos with a womb…it was usually described as a void rather than anything physical, though there were several references to Chaos birthing Gaia, Nyx, and a number of other Greek divinities.

"The followers of Orpheus, typically referred to as Orphics, had religious beliefs that included theories about Chaos. Specifically, that Chaos was the 'Womb of Darkness' from which the universe was derived. Somewhere between the 6th and 7th centuries, a wedge divided the Orphics- half of them split off from the main religion- historians are unsure of whether a true denomination was ever founded under these religious mutineers. There were rumblings of a secret sect, headed up by an artist from Athens named Defrim Ramadani, but nothing was ever proven."

Ludeck stared at Granger, an astonished yet slightly obsequious expression adorning his face. "You're brilliant," he murmured, almost dreamily.

Granger blushed and looked down at her feet. "Erm…thanks."

Draco huffed in irritation. "As fascinating as that little history lesson was, what the hell does it have to do with the Paladins of Nihil?"

She smiled tentatively. "Consequently, _Malfoy_, Ramadani was the only artist who ever painted Chaos as a 'sphere of cobalt'. He believed that from the womb of chaos all things were formed…and to chaos, all things would return."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "So what makes you think that this Ramadani is involved? The Paladins could have easily nicked the likeness…you're grasping at straws, Granger."

She looked up at him, an inscrutable expression on her pretty face. "He was also a pivotal player in the nihilist movement in Greece."

Draco's mouth fell open. There was no arguing with that. If Ramadani had formed a secret sect, was it possible that the Paladins of Nihil were its present day followers? And if so, why did they want the Codex? He turned away and walked to a nearby painting hanging on the wall. Pushing it aside, he revealed a magical safe and, muttering a charm and respective combination, the locks turned and the door swung open. Draco reached inside and pulled out the Codex which was still wrapped tightly in non-fibered fabric.

He closed the safe and walked steadily towards Granger and Ludeck. Stopping a foot short of the pair he pulled the fabric apart and held up the ancient text. Granger gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in astonishment.

"I need to decipher the Codex," Draco said quietly, "…but I can't do it on my own…" He stopped, taking a deep breath in order to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to do. It wasn't often that a Malfoy was reduced to relying on another, and, at present, he felt rather out of his element. "Will you…_please_…help me out?"

Granger regarded him silently for several moments, her eyes darting between the Codex and his face. Draco fidgeted under her scrutiny and he was fairly certain that he was sweating bullets- the perspiration building around the collar of his oxford shirt slowly trickled down his back as he awaited a final verdict. Indeed, the idea of being at Hermione Granger's mercy made him a little queasy- he could only imagine the hell he was getting himself into. _She better not make this any harder than it has to be…_

Ludeck cleared his throat and gave her a sweet smile. "We could really use your expertise…I'd also consider cooking you a nice candlelit dinner as payment."

Granger giggled as Ludeck gave her a roguish wink. Draco rolled his eyes. Ludeck was starting to get on his last nerve with all his bloody fawning over Britain's most insufferable witch. "Anyway," he stated petulantly, "if you could find it in that big Gryffindork heart of yours to help us out…well, that'd be brill."

Granger smirked. "Hmm, you know Malfoy, I'm not quite sure that you've convinced me of your need for my expertise. I think it's going to require a more heart-felt admission on your part."

She crossed her arms, the smirk on her face growing wider as Draco glared daggers at her. He could not believe that she had suggested something so ludicrous…there was no way in Merlin's holy hell that he was about to grovel at the feet of an incorrigible swot!! He wouldn't do it- he absolutely refused to be some ridiculous little whelp begging for her assistance. He turned his head away and thrust his nose in the air.

"Fine," she stated simply. "I'll just be on my way then."

She turned on her heel and stalked towards a pair of double doors, which, consequently led to the en suite. Draco rolled his eyes, a heavy sigh passing over his lips, and he took a step forward. "That's the bathroom, Granger."

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder sheepishly. "Oh." She turned towards another pair of doors and glided toward them.

"Closet," Draco murmured, amusement brimming behind his heavy accent.

Granger stopped and surveyed several pairs of doors on the adjoining wall. Stamping her foot in frustration, she whirled around and crossed her arms. "How many bloody bathrooms and closets do you need?!"

Draco smirked. "The other doors lead to my personal library and private study. Those," he pointed to a pair of ornate doors behind a round pedestal table adorned with bright white hydrangea, "lead you to the West Wing's main foyer."

Granger's eyes widened. "_West_ _Wing_?"

"That's right…good luck finding your way out of the Manor, Granger. If you're lucky…you won't run into my father."

Fright mingled with pure fury flickered across her face. "Dammit Malfoy! Let me out of here!"

"Not until you agree to help me, Granger," he replied with a triumphant smile. "One afternoon- that's all I'll need, and then you can go back to your boring life with the Weasel and forget I ever existed."

Granger narrowed her eyes. "_Weasley_…ferret," she spat crossly.

"Yeah, yeah…are you going to help me, or not?"

Granger sighed heavily. "One afternoon?"

Draco nodded and Grangre looked down at the Codex once more. Her eyes flashed with intrigue and Draco immediately knew he had her.

"I can't believe I'm actually considering this...alright Malfoy- one afternoon. You have yourself a deal," she said, straightening her posture and proffering her hand.

Draco raised a brow, surveying Granger's little hand warily. He looked into her eyes and she met his uncertain expression with a challenging one of her own. Scowling, Draco took her hand and shook vigorously, dropping it as quickly as possible. _I must be mad…I just made a deal with a blasted Gryffindork!_

Bryce stepped forward and held out his hand. "By the way, I'm Bryce Ludeck."

Granger smiled sweetly. "Hermione Granger...it's nice to meet you," she replied, her soft voice raising an octave as her eyes traveled over Bryce's naked torso.

He smirked devilishly and kissed her hand. "Quite nice, indeed."

Draco gritted his teeth in irritation, cursing Bryce and his blasted libido. _This is going to be one hell of an afternoon..._


	6. Translation Sensation

**Chapter Six: Translation Sensation**

Hermione was completely spellbound.

In the four years she had spent working for the Ministry's Codicology department, she had never seen anything like it. The codex was the physical representation of her life's ambition- everything she had worked for, studied for, hell, everything she _was, _could be defined by the primitive manuscript lying a few feet from where she stood.

Euphoric didn't begin to describe the breadth of her emotion.

In fact, she was fairly certain not a single word in the English language, or any other language for that matter, could truly delineate the sheer depth of her feelings. So, as it was, she kept it simple…she cried.

Tears streamed down her face, pooling on her slight chin and dripping one by one down the front of her robes. The warm, salty droplets were the perfect testament to the magnificent relic and, as she approached the artifact, a watery smile played on her soft lips.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Bryce asked in concern.

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, a sheepish expression on her pretty face. "Yes- I'm fine. It's just so…_beautiful_."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Bloody Gryffindors."

Hermione didn't bother with a retort. Presently, she was far too engrossed in the object in front of her to give a niffler's whisker what Draco Malfoy thought.

Sliding a shaky hand towards the ancient text, her nimble fingers tread lightly over the thick, sheepskin cover. There was hard-edged residue covering the outer swathe, likely similar to the wax-covered tablets used by the Romans for informal writing, and she let her fingers trace the primordial inscription fixed into the rigid material.

Knitting her brows, she turned to face her companions. "I'm familiar with this writing. It's a form of Western Middle Aramaic. Specifically, Christian Palestinian Aramaic- a language derived from Middle Syriac and influenced heavily by the Greek alphabet."

Draco looked down at her, brows raised. "_Aramaic_? But…isn't that the language of _Christ_?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Studying up on Muggle theology…I must say I'm impressed, Malfoy."

"It's a necessity in this line of work," he sniffed.

"Right," she replied, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "It's noted that Christ spoke a Galilean dialect of Aramaic- the codex features a latter form of the language."

Malfoy frowned. "But why would it be located amongst a grouping of Greek artifacts…and housed in a medieval chest for that matter? None of this makes any sense!"

"Actually," Hermione interjected, "Aramaic and Greek were languages that existed during the same period of time. In fact, Greek was the lingua franca of the eastern Mediterranean Basin, displacing Aramaic, since the time of Alexander the Great. This particular form of Aramaic was heavily influenced by the Greek alphabet- not to mention, its centuries newer than the dialect spoken by Christ and his disciples."

Malfoy was quiet, twiddling his fingers thoughtfully as she continued to rationalize her theory. She welcomed the momentary silence and bit her lip in deliberation.

"It's an interesting side note, really. The fact that this codex was found in a medieval chest points to the probability that someone from _that_ age created it."

Malfoy's head snapped up in surprise. "Wait! Are you telling me that someone from the _Middle Ages_ created the codex and wrote it in an earlier language…_on_ _purpose_?"

Hermione nodded. "It's a possibility. Obviously, whoever hid the codex was well aware that people were looking for it- they wouldn't have cast a Fidelious Charm otherwise. Not to mention that the use of that particular charm is further proof of the codex's age. Only a witch or wizard familiar with the teachings of _Merlin_ could have placed the manuscript in that chest."

"Holy Shite!" Bryce exclaimed. "The old bait and switch!"

Hermione smiled at the boggled Australian then refocused her gaze on the tetchy blond in front of her. She stifled a giggle. Malfoy, it seemed, was astonished. Mouth agape, eyes wide as galleons- he looked a little like a startled goldfish. She pressed her mouth into a tight line in order to keep herself from outright laughing in his face.

Eyeing the relic in contemplation, she quickly gathered her thoughts. "Of course this is all just speculation- especially if a Caryota analysis was previously performed on the piece." She gazed hopefully at the pair, narrowing her eyes when they began shifting from one foot to another in obvious discomfort.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then," she said, disappointed. Stiffening her shoulders, she looked Malfoy squarely in the eye. "I'd like to try and translate the text." Her tone was forceful and resolute.

He shrugged mildly then gave her a vague nod. Apparently, he was lost in thought.

"Perhaps you can date the piece after I've done an initial translation," she said loudly and Malfoy finally gave her the attention she was seeking. "It's going to take me some time, so I'd really prefer to get started now. I'm fluent in ancient Greek, and have a fairly good handle on ancient Aramaic- but I'll need to rely on magic to aid with any discrepancies- my Rosetta Charm will likely come in handy."

"Can't you just cast the Rosetta Charm on the entire book so we can read it in English?" Bryce asked.

Hermione laughed. "Unfortunately, it doesn't quite work that way. The Rosetta Charm is similar to the stone in that it provides a translation of a certain passage into another formal language- in this case, ancient Greek. It doesn't just automatically translate things into whatever language you wish. If it did, then the Ministry's Paleography section would be completely obsolete."

Draco scoffed. "So you're telling me the only reason they haven't come up with an accurate translation charm is so people can keep their jobs?"

Hermione's eyes flashed angrily. "They haven't felt the need to create a charm, Malfoy. The Expert Paleographers in my department have been instrumental in making the British Ministry the authority on ancient translations."

Draco opened his mouth to retort but Bryce was quick on his feet. "And I'm quite sure that _you_ had a little something to do with that as well," the dark haired wizard drawled and shot her a suggestive wink.

Hermione took a deep breath and smiled at him tentatively. "Trust me- I'm not the only Paleographer in the department."

"Yes, but you're the only one who's _head_ of the department."

She chuckled. "I suppose I can't argue with that."

Malfoy exhaled sharply. "Could you two _please_ cut the crap and focus? We only have one afternoon to figure this thing out!"

Bryce raised a brow at the obviously flustered blond but refrained from further comment. Hermione had begun to notice a trend- Bryce was rarely confrontational. Bearing the brunt of Malfoy's anger effectively, he was unusually passive and Hermione wondered if this 'partnership' was a little more sixty-forty than fifty-fifty. During the short span of time she had spent with the two men, she noticed that Malfoy was abnormally quiet- sometimes appearing completely distracted- and prone to sudden outbursts. Bryce, on the other hand, coddled the Slytherin- fulfilling his every desire- and Hermione had come to the conclusion that the sweet, Australian wizard viewed Malfoy not only as an employer, but also, to her amazement, as a brother.

Clearing her head, Hermione pursed her lips. "Fine, Malfoy. Why don't you start looking for texts on the fissure in the Orphic religion and anything that might reference Dafrim Ramadani."

Malfoy nodded once and abruptly turned away, stalking towards the numerous bookshelves that encompassed the entire left half of the room. Hermione watched as he skirted his massive desk and then disappeared between a pair of ornately carved cherry stacks. Looking around, she shook her head in exasperation. There was no denying that Malfoy had grown up in the lap of luxury. His private study was the size of Hermione's entire cottage and she couldn't help but gasp at its perfection. The right side of the room- bordered in beveled glass- exploded in a sea of light. The mid-afternoon sun streamed through the smooth, liquid surface and cast colorful prisms onto the study's dark, damask walls. The brilliant daylight meandered through the various rows of bound parchment and illuminated the entire room. At the study's center was a sunken seating area- bright Persian rug softening the hard wood floor, club chairs and chaise upholstered in lavish silks, and a beautiful cherry coffee table crowned with a circlet of Chrysanthemum. A colossal fireplace abutted the wall just behind the little rotunda and flames danced rhythmically in its massive firebox.

"You two certainly can't seem to contain yourselves, can you?" Bryce's voice broke into her thoughts and she turned to face him.

"Sorry?"

"I just can't get over the tension between the two of you," he continued. "There's a strange mechanism behind it…almost like magic. I can sense it whenever you two are together, but more so when you argue."

Hermione cocked her head in disbelief. "A mechanism? Me and…_Malfoy_?"

Bryce chuckled. "Yeah. You two used to date or something?"

Hermione began spluttering uncontrollably. She pulled deftly at the collar of her robes and shook her head wildly.

Bryce immediately jumped to help her. "Hopping Wallabies! Are you alright?" He ran a hand over her back in soft circles and Hermione eventually regained control of her faculties. Unconsciously, she leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. It had been one hell of a day and she relished the soothing feeling.

After a minute or two, she felt Bryce edge a little closer. His calming strokes, now more like soft caresses, suddenly made her a bit uncomfortable. Opening one eye, she noted the slight proximity between them- his bent head leaning toward her, shaggy brown hair falling messily into the dark brown eyes that followed the smooth arch of his touch. Hermione silently thanked Merlin that he had put on a shirt. _That would have been considerably awkward… _Nevertheless, a ridiculously handsome wizard _was_ touching her- and it certainly didn't _feel_ platonic. Indeed, a strange heat welled in the pit of her stomach and her palms were quickly becoming wet with perspiration. She bit her lip anxiously, eyes shifting back and forth as her nerves got the better of her, and she desperately tried to come up with a way to get out of her current predicament.

"Feeling better?" he drawled and Hermione nearly shrieked. His breath was hot on the side of her face and she instinctively jumped. Her face flushed in embarrassment as she rushed over to the desk, stuttering like a ruddy fool.

"J-just fine. Er, thanks. Well, I should, uh, really get to work…lots of, um, text to translate and so little time. You know how it is." She blew a stray curl out of her face and fanned herself fortuitously.

Bryce smirked wickedly. "Are you _sure_ you're alright?"

Hermione could feel her face burning brightly and she quickly turned away. _Bugger me! What is my _problem_?_

"Hello?" he pressed. She could hear the amusement in his voice and she gritted her teeth in irritation.

Taking a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves, she felt the heat in her cheeks begin to subside. "I'm fine," she replied, not bothering to turn around at risk of another flare up.

Bryce chuckled. "Well, that's good to know. You looked a bit…_heated_. I hope I didn't offend you with the question."

Hermione could feel her mortification quickly returning…and for the life of her she couldn't remember what question he was referring to. "Erm, what question was that?"

"The one about you and Malfoy."

Hermione frowned in confusion and turned to face him. "What?"

"You know, the one about you two being an item…" He raised a brow and she wrinkled her nose, puzzled.

"Oh…right…" she replied absently and tinkered with the cover of the codex. It took another couple of seconds for the implication of his question to dawn on her and she immediately felt all evidence of her former blush rapidly drain from her face.

Bryce's eyes widened. "Hermione…you're as white as a ghost!"

She gripped the top of the desk firmly, knuckles of both hands turning yellowy-white, and leaned toward him with fierce calculation. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Bryce," she growled through clenched teeth. "Draco Malfoy and I were _never_ an item."

Bryce's expression ranged from trepidation to perplexity, and finally, relief. "You weren't?"

"_NO!!_" she shouted, the irritation in her voice quite prominent.

Malfoy poked his head out from between the bookshelves, a deep scowl on his pale face. "Granger, do you think you could be any louder? I'm not sure you managed to wake up the neighbors!" he hissed.

Hermione sighed in displeasure and threw a dirty look over her shoulder. He sneered in response but returned to his search, nonetheless. Despite his hypothetical ceasefire, Hermione was positive she heard the phrase 'blasted banshee' drift out from between the stacks.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the codex. Noting that Bryce was, once again, quite close to where she stood, she quickly dropped into the seat in front of her, and wrung her hands apprehensively. _Why does he have to be so cute?? Dammit Hermione, get a grip…you're with Ron!! Hello!! Does the word engaged ring any bells…how about _wedding_ bells!! _

She toyed with the diamond on her finger and the movement caught Bryce's eye.

"You're engaged?" he asked abruptly.

Hermione looked up, startled.

"Yeah, she's engaged…to Ronald Weasley- bumbling side kick to the great Harry Potter and academic leech to the Brightest Witch of Our Age." Malfoy's snide tone broke into their discussion and Hermione whirled around in anger.

"Need I remind you that _I_ am the one helping _you_, Malfoy. So kindly refrain from insulting Ronald Weasley in my presence!" she snapped and turned swiftly back to her work.

Malfoy sniggered. "Somebody's got a bug up her butt," he replied, slamming several tomes down on the desk and pulling up a chair. She grimaced as his musky scent enveloped her senses and scooted a few inches to her right. _Prat…_

Bryce, meanwhile, had slumped into a chair across from them, a sour look on his face.

Feigning indifference, Hermione pulled out her wand and prepared to conjure a quill and inkwell when the dark haired Australian suddenly shot up in his seat, causing both of the room's other occupants to flinch.

"What's with you, mate?" Malfoy asked as he leafed through a heavy, leather-bound volume of Greek history.

Bryce stared at Hermione, an excited look on his face. "You're _really_ powerful!" he said, leaning forward eagerly.

Hermione was confused. "Huh?"

Bryce smiled widely. "You're probably the most powerful witch I've ever encountered!!"

Hermione shot Malfoy a sidelong glance and he looked up from his book, noting her questioning gaze. Sighing, he relented. "Bryce is a Mystic, Granger."

Hermione's eyes flashed with intrigue. "Really? I've never met a Mystic before!" she replied, fascinated. "How does it work?"

Bryce smirked. "Well, basically I can sense any kind of power- whether animate or inanimate. For example, if a person has placed a charm on an inanimate object, I can sense the magical vibrations emanating off of the item. With people, it's the same- I can sense varying degrees of power from each person I meet. With you, I felt the real depth of your power once you took hold of your wand. You're just as powerful, if not more, than Draco."

Malfoy raised a brow in disbelief. "Granger, as powerful as me? Pfft!"

Hermione crossed her arms and eyed the blond menacingly. "As you'll recall, _Malfoy_, it was _I_ who bested you _every single year_ at Hogwarts. Or have you buried that little piece of information along with all your other memories?"

Malfoy paused and looked up at her, face passive save for a brief flash of studded pain in his smoky eyes. He let out a smooth exhale and returned to his book. "I'm quite sure I remember, Granger."

Hermione's mouth fell open. _Draco Malfoy _didn't_ retort? I must be dreaming! _She pinched herself. _No…I'm not dreaming… _She tugged on a piece of her hair. _Hmm-obviously awake…_ She bit her lip harshly. _Dammit, this doesn't make sense…I have to be dreaming. Maybe if I stick my head in the fire that'll knock me out of this senseless nightmare…_

"Granger!" Malfoy's sharp tone startled her out of her inner diatribe and she glanced around rapidly.

"Merlin's Sodding Socks, Granger…are you going to translate that thing or are you just going to stare off into space all day?" He looked at her oddly, a mixture of concern and annoyance playing on his face.

Ignoring him, Hermione bent over the codex and began making preparations. She flicked her wand, conjuring parchment and quill, and carefully opened the manuscript. Waving her wand again, she recited the proper incantation for the Rosetta Charm, focusing steadily on the blockish Aramaic text. The pages immediately stiffened, one passage rising up from the material- alight in bluish hue- and hung in the air. Hermione murmured the next segment of the charm and the passage abruptly split into three separate translations. Smiling in triumph, she directed the translations to the blank parchment. "Necto," she whispered and the passages affixed themselves to the paper respectively.

Hermione grabbed the quill and dipped the nib in her inkwell. Leaning over the primeval text, she quickly realized that the first page was rather short and, to her great surprise, easily translated. She decoded it very quickly and scribbled the translation on her parchment. Once she had finished the passage, she sat back in her chair and appraised her work. Her initial review had her on edge, the text was cryptic and, as a result, a bit disturbing.

"I've managed to translate the first page." She bit her lip apprehensively. "However, the content has me a bit worried. Although the codex is purely Muggle, it appears that mysticism may be involved after all."

"That's not possible. I would have sensed the magical emanations," Bryce argued. He crossed his arms and fixed his face in resolution.

Hermione sighed. "I understand your frustration, but…you did say that you were unable to sense the Paladins when they were at the fort. What if this…magic, or whatever it is, isn't something that you can sense?"

Bryce looked thoughtful for a moment. "A different class of magic…" he wondered aloud. "It's possible, I guess. I _didn't_ feel the Paladins presence before they-"

"But they're Muggles," Malfoy interrupted. "How _could_ you feel them?"

Hermione stood up and began pacing back and forth. "Let me try and work this out," she said. Clasping her hands together, she looked down at the floor in thought. "All of this is obviously connected. The Paladins are, in some way, involved with Chaos- specifically, Ramadani's secret sect- an unmistakably Greek outfit. The codex is also associated with Greek- it's location…the noticeable links between the ancient languages..."

She stopped. "And now…this…"she picked up the parchment and began to read the passage aloud.

"_Ye' may find decoding the following text,_

_Shall not be so easy as this may suggest._

_The key to unlocking the following page,_

_Lies with a poet from Rome's Golden Age._

_In life he wrote death- and brief, clever prose,_

_An ode to his slave, he once did compose._

_Within that dear ode, ye' shall find a location,_

_In dark, precious stone- path towards revocation. _

_In Muggle protection, this book shall persist,_

_In discovering your destiny, fate's charm shall desist."_

She looked up at them, a worried expression playing over her face.

Malfoy grunted. "What_ charm_??"

As if on cue, the codex suddenly rose off of the desk and began glowing profusely- bright, blinding light streaming out of its center. Hermione shrieked as the golden rays suddenly flashed white, spilling over the room and blowing all three occupants out of their chairs. She instinctively covered her head with her hands, shielding herself from the abrupt white heat. She could hear Malfoy shouting at Bryce and then, felt a pair of hands close around her ankles and pull her under the desk. Gripping her shoulders, they hauled her upwards just as another body slid under the bulky piece and pushed her against its inflexible base. Hermione groaned and an odd choking sound spilled from her parted lips as another wave of heat and light sent the body in front of her reeling backwards. She was suddenly pulled sideways, landed in a lap, and burrowed her head in the firm chest in front of her, peeking out from time to time to see what in bloody hell was going on.

The book was no longer visible. Engulfed in a sphere of iridescent silver- it continued to glow and pulse erratically, a strange Siren-like melody echoing around the room. Then, as suddenly as the event had begun, it unexpectedly stopped, the beautiful chorus disappearing in a curly wisp of silver smoke and the codex falling swiftly to the floor.

Hermione sat back, hands still resting on her guardian's chest. She blinked in surprise as she took in the neat, silver tie and dapper suit. Her heart pounded rapidly as she slowly lifted her dark eyes and locked on Malfoy's silver gaze. He wore an odd expression- as if torn between confusion and disgust- and his hands still gripped her shoulders tightly. They looked at each other for a moment, neither moving, and Hermione felt a strange sensation radiate between them.

The peculiar connection was broken when, not a second later, a deafening crash rocketed through Malfoy's study. The wide double doors blew off their hinges and, with significant confidence, one Lucius Malfoy swept into the room. His wand drawn, a vicious expression on his haughty face, he surveyed the supposedly vacant study warily. Hermione felt her breath quicken as she looked on the furious former Death Eater and she inadvertently cowered as his heavy boots knocked against the hard wooden floor, growing ever closer to their rather conspicuous hiding place.

With a heavy sigh, Malfoy shifted her to the floor and crawled out from beneath the desk. "Hello Father," he drawled. His voice was solemn but Hermione could detect the slight petulance behind the thick formality.

Lucius halted. "Draco?" he looked utterly dumbfounded. "What…how…why did you not inform us of your presence?!"

Malfoy sighed, looking down at his feet. "I'm quite sure you know why, Father."

Lucius' excitement ebbed and a gravely cold expression took its place. "Ah. I see we are still seduced by the ironies of the Second War. Tell me Draco, did you enjoy many Mudbloods during your great adventures?"

Hermione gasped and Lucius' attention snapped towards the massive desk. Malfoy glowered at her from behind his livid father and she felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

With a simple flick of a wand, the desk shot across the floor, its loud scraping sound grating on her nerves effectively. Bryce stood up and, running a hand through his hair, cleared his throat nervously. "Er, hello Mr. Malfoy. I'm Bryce Ludeck. I, uh, work with your son."

Lucius nodded curtly. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he drawled.

Turning towards Hermione, his icy gaze pierced her like a dozen serrated blades. She sat on the floor, the thick material of her robes clenched in her fists, and glared contemptuously at the self-righteous Pureblood.

"Well, well, well…I see my pristine manor is once again defiled by your presence, Ms. Granger."

Hermione could feel her blood boiling. "I beg to differ, Mr. Malfoy. Your home was already clogged with age-old, Pureblood gobshite well before I arrived." The venom in her voice only heightened the meaning behind her words.

"At least you address me from where you belong- groveling at my feet," Lucius spat and glanced irritably at his son. "Draco, why is this Mudblood in my home?"

"Muggleborn," Malfoy corrected.

Both Hermione and Lucius' eyes nearly popped out of their heads. Spluttering in shock, Lucius took a step towards his child. "Excuse me?" he barked.

Malfoy clenched his fists in fury, his pale face flushing in anger. "When are you going to realize that we lost?!! That everything we fought for was utter bollocks?! When are you gong to climb down off that high hippogriff and see the world for what it truly-"

_**BOOM!**_

Malfoy's angry tirade was suddenly stifled by a loud rumbling sound just outside the Manor walls. The group slowly turned their heads to the right- the panoramic window granting a perfect view of an imminent threat. A small group of people made their way through the gardens, trailing a wall of fire in their wake. Hermione felt her stomach drop as she noted the strange, blue light around each individual, glowing like an eerie halo in the dusky twilight sky.

"The Paladins!!" she cried.

"How the hell did they find us here?" Bryce asked worriedly.

Malfoy did not answer, rather he sped towards the codex, snatching it up off the floor, and rounded the messy desk. Gathering the books and his notes respectively, he shrunk them and began shoving them into suit pockets at random. Hermione rushed forward to help- scooping up her translation and a couple of books Malfoy had missed in his frantic search. As she made her way towards the seating area to get her handbag, a gloved hand clamped fiercely on her shoulder and spun her around.

"You will not sully my possessions, Mudblood," Lucius growled, pushing her to the floor roughly. He pointed his wand in her face. "I do not know why these intruders come, but I am fairly certain that _you _have something to do with it. Perhaps I shall offer them a trade…"

Bryce stepped between them, his wand countering the elder Malfoy's, and he scowled derisively at the callous wizard. "You _will not_ touch her."

"Do not interfere, _Dingo_. I have business to settle with this little girl." Lucius sneered. "And keep in mind that I could send you down under with a flick of my wrist, so kindly step aside."

Malfoy rushed forward, grabbing Hermione by the back of her robes, and dragged her with him towards the fireplace. "Your business was settled five years ago, Father. It's time you came to terms with your loss!" Tucking her up under his arm, Malfoy quickly snuffed the flames and grabbed a handful of floo powder.

"Bryce!" he pressed. "Get a move on!"

The Australian walked backwards towards the floo, wand still trained on Lucius' face, and squeezed in beside the pair. Taking Malfoy's arm he looked at him questioningly.

"Where are we headed, Malfoy?"

"My apartment in Rome!" he replied quickly and, tossing the dusty powder in his hand, shouted, "12 Piazza de Spagna, Rome, Italy!" Emerald fire immediately engulfed the trio and the last thing they saw before descending into sooty oblivion was the brilliant wall of windows exploding into thousands of reflective, beveled shards and pelting the room, and Lucius Malfoy, like a ruthless, relentless hailstorm.

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**_A/N- And so the chase begins...this chapter will basically act as the jumping off point for the fierce battle ahead with the Paladins. You'll find that the new 'trio' will have a difficult time shaking them for a while. Believe me, there is a reason behind this-- and no, it's not Ludeck!! I need to lay to rest some unwarranted speculation about him ; )_**

**_Thanks for reading and if you feel up to it, leave me a review. I like to know where and how I can improve my writing! _**


	7. Roman Blunder

**_A/N- Okay, so I realize it's been months but I did leave a note on my Author's Profile about my current Original Fiction project (which is going extremely well, by the way). I apologize for the lack of chapters and I hope I haven't offended anyone. It's just that, when you're writing an OF, you have to heed your mental need. My inspiration has literally not stopped for four months and I had to keep going lest I blow the plotline...so, that's my explanation. Anyhoo, I hope this chappie makes up for it. _**

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Chapter 7: Roman Blunder

The trio flashed through a tunnel of soot, firebox after firebox rocketing past as they steadily made their way towards Rome. Draco's body pressed up against Granger's back, her wild hair whipping him in the face. Bryce was beside them, his bulky frame compressing the already tight channel. The trip was taking considerable time- Draco hadn't the chance to think things through before executing their escape. Between his father's vengeful admissions and the Paladins exploding into the Manor, the only thing that occurred to him was flight.

And ensuring the safety of the codex.

Presently, the ancient text was tucked tightly beneath his right arm and he flexed his bicep to ensure it stayed there. His left arm was wrapped around Granger, secured across the front of her chest. He could feel her heart beating erratically. It matched her breathing, which also stuttered frequently in irregularity. She was obviously shaken up.

He couldn't blame her.

Lucius Malfoy had a way of getting under anyone's skin, but his threats were enough to bring you to your knees. As a young man, Draco had experienced Lucius' wrath just once. He had foolishly wandered into his father's study after a particularly messy episode with the Dark Lord. Draco had never thought it possible for his father to use dark magic against him. However, the culmination of failure and the Dark Lord's continued mocking of his family had been too much for the elder Malfoy to handle and he'd snapped.

There was something about the torture curse that set it apart from the other Unforgivables. The Imperious provided total psychosomatic power over its subject while the Avada Kedavra provided total physical power, respectively. The Crucio was different. Through controlled pain, it gave the caster power over both the psychosomatic _and_ the physical. Of all the curses, it was the only one that could break a person's spirit and, of the three, Draco considered it the most sinister. But nothing could compare to suffering the affects of the curse at the hands of your own father.

_Nothing._

His mother had stumbled into the room shortly after the incident, discovering Draco curled under his father's desk. He had tried to downplay his haggard appearance, but Narcissa Malfoy was exceptionally sharp. She immediately noticed Draco's wan and shaky countenance, demanding an explanation. Draco hadn't the heart to tell her and Lucius had avoided her prodding with the typical Malfoy indifference. It was only after the war had ended that she'd finally learned the truth. Not only had it widened the chasm between the Malfoy men but it had also caused considerable strife in his parent's marriage. Narcissa loved her husband but she also loved her son and, although Lucius had begged their forgiveness, both Draco and Narcissa had found it difficult to concede. Draco could understand the pressures of living a life of derided servitude, but it didn't make up for his father's lack of control.

The incident had, indeed, caused a fatal turn in their relationship but what had finally severed the connection between father and son had been the elder Malfoy's continued bigotry. Even after suffering the consequences of a brutal war, one that had proven the futility of their baseless pride, Lucius Malfoy was _still_ unable to see reason. It infuriated Draco and he'd found that separation from the stubborn man provided the solace he desperately needed. Although he knew what leaving would do to his mother, and how the public estimation would affect his already sullied reputation, he fled Wiltshire and embraced the freedom only the world could offer him. He had happily seceded from dysfunction, albeit with slight regret, freeing himself from the bonds of a threatening patriarch.

In that order, Granger had done surprisingly well. She had stood her ground against Lucius, aware of her probable disadvantage. Draco was still reeling from the shock- the woman had surprised him at every turn during their short re-acquaintance, a fact he would never willingly admit aloud.

That aside, what had shocked him most of all was the protective stance Bryce had taken on her behalf. He shifted his gaze toward his partner- the man's face was twisted in an awful grimace, his eyes squeezed tight in discomfort. Draco wondered if it were the strange sensation of the Floo or the extremely compact tunnel that bothered the otherwise intrepid wizard.

The idea that Bryce was interested in Granger was unsettling, to say the least. Draco couldn't understand it. Sure, she was intelligent and she had certainly become an attractive young woman but there were plenty of girls who exhibited identical, if not similar, qualities. What made Granger so special? He supposed it could be her immense power- Bryce had a way of becoming infatuated with the more potent subjects he encountered- however, the picky Australian had shown interest in the little witch well before he experienced the full brunt of her ability. If her magical prowess _did_ factor into his partner's attraction, it likely only fueled a fire that had already begun to burn.

Draco frowned. Bryce had never acted this way toward any of the girls he'd fancied before- this sudden disparity was irritating. The pair had always held to a silent pact: _never_ get serious with a woman you date. Hell, even the term 'date' was too liberally applied to the birds they typically took out. Draco quickly closed his eyes as one of Granger's rogue curls slapped him in the face. Not only was the blasted swot practically blinding him, she was also threatening a partnership that enabled his promiscuity.

_Bloody wench…she just _had_ to come along and ruin everything- as _usual. Scowling, Draco mulled over these new, disconcerting circumstances, ignoring the fact that he had practically dragged her along. He was also annoyed with Bryce- this was not exactly the best time to be chasing a skirt- especially a skirt that contained Hermione Granger. Besides, the damn thing was completely matronly and covered with at least three inches of thick robes. How could you possibly appreciate a body like hers when you couldn't make out a thing under the frumpy article?

Draco paused. _What the hell am I doing? _He kicked himself in the arse for putting so much thought into the dynamic between Bryce and Granger…_and_ her blasted skirt. What did he care? Bryce could date whomever he liked. Draco shouldn't be upset that the wizard was interested in his enemy…f_ormer_ enemy…whatever Granger was. He had suspicions that she was corporeal karma- a stunning dark angel sent from the depths of hell to torment him.

He started as the object of his thoughts shifted in his arms. The scent of lavender enveloped him as her wild mane whipped him in the face once again. Draco gritted his teeth- lavender was his favorite flower. He was beginning to lose it and, by Merlin, if the damn Floo didn't end soon he was going to have a conniption. The idea that someone he despised so much could evoke such avid reactions boggled his mind. It also muddled his perception of who he thought she was. Admittedly, Draco had written Granger off as an uptight, prudish bint whose academic overzealousness proved a deep self-loathing. He'd never imagined that she was actually a confidant, agile, and witty swot who was more than just a go to girl for Harry sodding Potter and his bumbling, ginger subordinate.

_Dammit! Why am I thinking about Granger when I should be thinking about the Codex?!_ Draco shook his head swiftly. He _should_ have been focusing on the Codex. Not to mention, the charm they had all been subjected to. He began to worry about the Paladins finding them in Rome and whether his family had suffered at the hands of a crew of magical Muggles.

Sighing, he inadvertently tightened his grip on the witch under his arm. She gasped in surprise.

"Sorry," he muttered. His lips brushed against her ear and she stiffened.

He rolled his eyes. "Relax, Granger. You're going to give yourself a coronary…and I, for one, am in no mood to Floo with a corpse- so lighten up."

She huffed indignantly and crossed her arms.

A smirk tugged at his lips. Only Hermione Granger could successfully sulk during an International Floo.

"Mate," Bryce suddenly gasped, "how much longer is this ride going to last?"

Draco took in Bryce's weary, ashen features and flinched. He shifted away from the wizard involuntarily and lost his grip on Granger in the process. She flew toward Bryce, shrieking as her head knocked soundly against his chin. Hissing, Draco reached out to grasp her robes, hoping to pull her out of the line of fire. Instead, he unintentionally gripped her messy coif.

"Ow! Malfoy, let go of my hair!" she yelped.

Draco dropped his hand, pinching at her lower back in an effort to get a grip on her robes instead of the mammoth bush covering most of her back.

"Ugh!" Bryce suddenly lurched forward and threw a hand over his mouth. Granger flinched away from him just as Draco made to grab her robes. Instead, he got a handful of her arse.

She yelped again and threw the dirtiest of dirty looks over her shoulder. "Get your hands off of me, Malfoy!"

"Oh please, like I'd really grab your bum on purp- aaaaaaccccckkkkkk," Draco began to choke as a gust of wind blew Granger's unkempt coif into his open mouth.

Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about meeting his maker at the hands of a sodding Gryffindork. Seconds later, the trio tumbled out of an elaborate firebox and landed in a heap of tangled of limbs.

Bryce clutched at his stomach and groaned in relief. "Thank Merlin that's over!" he gasped.

Draco looked around warily. The trio was sprawled on a shiny wood floor littered with expensive furnishings and priceless antiques. Lavish, contemporary art hung on the walls around them. Draco turned his head quickly, detecting movement out of the corner of his eye. On a small, mahogany side table a magical portrait depicted Draco, seated on the stern of a yacht, a number of bikini-clad, young women dancing around him as they celebrated his first lucrative bounty.

He grinned wickedly. That had been one hell of a night.

"Malfoy, you ruddy twit, get off of me!" Granger's muffled voice rang out from beneath him and he scrambled rapidly off of the witch.

She sat up, her previously tidy appearance now completely defunct. Her wild hair was sticking out at all angles, resembling the Muggle afro Draco had seen on a man in Tanzania. Her robes, once neat and smooth, were twisted and her collar had come apart at the stitching. Her bare arms and the apple of her left cheek were covered in ashy residue and the fingers of her left hand were completely black. Draco took one look at her and burst into hysterics.

Granger narrowed her eyes. "You don't look so hot yourself, Malfoy."

Draco's amusement quickly ebbed. Frowning, he stood up to survey his reflecton in the gilded mirror that hung over his fireplace.

He grimaced.

Granger was right- he was a complete mess. His normally perfect, blond locks were tussled and dirty, his pale face, caked with ash, and his perfect three-piece suit, totally disheveled. His tie was askew, his collar bent and broken, and several buttons on the front of his coat had gone missing. He was also acutely aware of the fact that he smelled like a fire pit and, looking down at his hands, he noted that they were also as black as Granger's.

"Uh, Draco," Bryce murmured behind him. He spun around to face his still peaked partner, brows raised in expectation.

Bryce held up the codex gingerly. On impulse, Draco's hand flew to the now unoccupied crook of his right arm. Concerned, he launched himself forward, brushing his hands on the front of his suit. He snatched the ancient text from between the Australian's thick fingers and inspected it closely for any physical damage.

Granger watched the exchange with subtle interest before heaving herself off the Floor. "Alright," she began briskly and rubbed the back of her neck. "I've had about as much as I can bloody well take. We need to figure out how these damned Paladins keep showing up." She began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, her little hands clasped tightly behind her back. "This doesn't make any sense…how in hell do they keep finding us wherever we go?" She looked up at Draco and quirked a brow. "Or, should I say, wherever _you _go."

Draco sneered at the pretty witch. "You're blaming me? For all we know, they can sense the power of the codex!" He was a little miffed that Granger was suddenly pointing fingers. She _did _have a point- every time he started to relax, those maniacal Muggles and there bright blue spheres would suddenly show up to ruin the party- but that didn't mean that he was the reason.

"True…but didn't you mention something about one of your workers? I mean, isn't it possible that you were…" Granger trailed off as she rounded the couch and came to a halt in front of a large portrait of Narcissa Malfoy. She looked up at it, nibbling on the pad of her bottom lip thoughtfully. Draco smiled at his mother's picture- she looked lovely, as usual. A pair of hunter green robes hugged her figure and a lustrous platinum pendant hung around her neck. Her long, blonde hair was piled on top of her head and a tight smile graced her elegant features.

Suddenly, Granger spun around, a look of recognition dawning on her face. "Metal!" she practically shouted.

"What?" Ludeck asked, clearly puzzled.

Granger grinned and slapped her forehead. "I am such a daft bint!" she exclaimed.

"I'll second that one," Draco cut in, holding up a hand.

She shot him a murderous glare and then turned to the Australian. "Bryce," she said breathlessly, the excitement clear on her face. "You said you were unable to detect the Paladins, right?"

He nodded and Granger's smile widened even more. Draco noted that she had the most perfect teeth he had ever seen- dazzling white and straight as an arrow. He smirked inwardly, silently patting himself on the back for hitting her with the Densaugeo charm in fourth year. It had worked wonders.

"I think I might know why," she replied, her eyes dancing as she turned back towards Draco. "But first…" A slow, methodical grin crept over her features as she looked at him. Draco frowned as her eyes traveled the length of his body and, just when he was going to ask what in bloody hell she was looking at, she spoke. "Alright Malfoy…_strip_."

Draco's eyes widen. "Excuse me?" he replied, completely bemused.

"I said, take your clothes off," she demanded.

He nearly choked. "I, uh, don't think I quite understand what you're asking me."

"And here I thought you were intelligent, Malfoy," she countered, pursing her lips. "I'm quite certain that when a woman tells you to remove your clothing, you have a good idea of what she's asking."

Draco was speechless and, from the looks of it, so was Bryce. Draco also noted the utter envy etched into the man's features and, for some reason, he found it oddly satisfying.

"Granger," he finally managed to squeak out, "I'm flattered but there's no way in hell that I'd _ever_-"

"Malfoy! I am not asking you to do this because I want to see you naked!" She wrinkled her nose. "I'm asking because we need to determine whether or not you've been marked." She took out her wand and looked at him expectantly.

Realization slowly dawned on him. Granger thought he had been subjected to a Vestigium Charm! He quickly began to disrobe, pulling off his suit jacket and slipping out of his boots.

Bryce looked at Granger questioningly. "A Vestigium Charm?" he asked. "I assure you I would have sensed it."

Granger looked at the wizard kindly. "Actually, I have a hunch…if you could just bear with me, I think I might know why the Paladins are undetectable…_and_ why a certain cranky Slytherin is a constant blip on their radar," she replied.

Draco scowled and slowly began to undo the buttons on his oxford shirt, annoyed that the cuff of his right sleeve was covered in ash. He removed his pants and stood proudly in the middle of the floor. He wore a pair of finely milled, emerald boxers…and nothing else. Granger's dark eyes roved his taut body with what looked like obligatory appreciation.

Draco smirked. _Well, well…it seems even Granger is susceptible to my charms… _

As if sensing his thoughts, she rolled her eyes and then pressed the tip of her wand against his chest. He felt a strange heat flood through him and he looked at her hesitantly. She ignored his questioning gaze and closed her eyes.

"Astiktos Apamphiazo," she whispered. Draco immediately recognized the language as Greek.

He frowned when nothing happened. "Well, it looks like this hunch of yours is a miss, Granger."

Suddenly, a strange light encircled his upper body and began streaming a fiery trail over his skin. It worked its way around his chest, spiraling into a sphere at the nape of his neck, and then slowly turned into a bright, cobalt blue- _Paladin _blue.

The sphere began to grow cold and Draco swatted at it instinctively. "Get it off me!" he shouted.

Granger placed a hand on his bare shoulder and he flinched- the contrast of her warm skin and the frosty sphere was substantial. "Habrotes Anapono!" she said firmly and the bright sphere immediately began to crystallize. Draco felt an odd sensation as the icy orb lifted out of his skin. It rose into the air and Hermione pointed her wand at it.

"Reducto!" she shouted and the sphere exploded into hundreds of tiny shards, raining down on them like fine sleet. They melted as they hit the floor and impromptu woe over the expensive hardwood briefly flitted through Draco's mind.

"It _was _a Vestigium charm!" Bryce cried in disbelief. "And a nasty one at that. I've never seen one crystallize before."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "It's actually the most complex of the marking charms," he piped up. "By using the body's natural waters, the charms remains imbedded in the individual. The only way to get rid of it is to freeze it out."

Granger nodded in agreement. "That's right."

Bryce leapt on Granger, lifted her up into the air and spun her around. "How on earth did you figure that out?" he laughed.

Granger blushed as he placed her back onto the floor. "Well, I had this crazy hunch. I remembered something from our NEWTS when I saw this portrait of Mrs. Malfoy," she said, gesturing to the large canvas behind her. "The _Worldwide History of Magic _section in the Hogwarts library made reference to Greco-Roman magic and, being a big fan of Greco-Roman mythology, I decided to read up on it. It seems that the Greeks originally fashioned their wands from stones or metals." She looked back and forth between the two men in front of her.

"So?" Draco said, not quite sure where she was going with this.

"Malfoy, wood isn't the only natural element with magical properties, metals also have extensive mystical traits- _cobalt _being one of them." She looked at him shrewdly and he nearly smacked himself in the forehead for not catching on sooner.

"The rings," he breathed and Granger nodded.

"Exactly. I can't believe I didn't catch on to it before now, especially since the Paladins are clearly related to the Orphic sect," she said, shaking her head. "Everything associated with that codex has hinged on what we all believed to be the mythological but now I'm beginning to think that the sect may have been the real deal." She twisted a long curl around her black finger. "The most interesting thing is their use of Cobalt. It has cloaking properties."

"Cloaking?" Byce wondered aloud. "So that's why I can't sense them then?"

"I believe so, yes. From what I remember about Cobalt, it is a transition metal with specific refracting properties. Not only is it a shield maker and strengthener, but it also produces very specific, deeply hypnotic emanations that can both cloak and transform the person who uses it."

Draco had to admit it- he was impressed. _Damn know-it-all is actually going to come in handy! _He glanced at Ludeck and noticed that he was practically drooling over her as she continued to speak. Draco knitted his brows- he would have to have a little chat with his partner before the day was through.

"Granger, how the hell did you figure out the incantations?" Draco asked suddenly, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Well, honestly, that was just a shot in the dark," she admitted. "I figured that, because the properties of magic are unalterable, I could tap into the spell using my magical knowledge paired with their Greek incantation. My theory was, because we all use our own natural ability to harness the earth's magical properties, we could draw on each other's magic as long as we have the key to do so. Based on our short history with the Paladin's, the only thing I had figured out was that they were Greek. So, I decided to give it a go- and it worked."

"So it did," Ludeck stated proudly. "Have I ever told you that you're brilliant?"

Granger blushed again and Draco blew out a loud breath. "There's still one thing I don't get- if the Paladins are magical too, why do they hate wizards?"

At this, she grinned widely. "Think about it, Malfoy. If someone had mistaken you for a Gryffindor back at Hogwarts, would you have been angry?"

Draco sneered. "_No one_ would have mistaken me for a bloody Gryffindor, thank you very much."

Granger smirked. "Exactly, because to you, Slytherin was the best."

"Naturally," he agreed. "But what's your point?"

"My point is, maybe the Paladins think that _they're _the best," she rejoined smartly. "These are people who have obviously been trained to revile wizardry and their use of deflection and cloaking only supports my theory. Evidently, the Paladins want to remain undetectable to other magical people."

"But why?"

"I suppose they believe it is to their advantage. We are dealing with the followers of someone who likely despised Merlin and this person could have well been the very man who caused the split in the Orphic religion."

"Defrim Ramadani?"

"Could be," she replied and then glanced out the window at the darkening sky. "Um, Malfoy, I really think I need to owl Ron and let him know where I am."

"Ron?" Bryce cut in.

Draco grinned smugly. "That'd be her fiancé, mate." He paused, practically wincing at the satisfied quality to his tone. What the hell was going on with him?

Ludeck frowned. "Oh, right."

Granger cleared her throat uncomfortably and then shot Draco an expectant look.

"Study's down the hall, last door on the right," he said. "Open the window and my owl will find you."

Granger nodded and headed down the hallway.

Draco turned to Ludeck, who was watching the girl disappear down the long corridor. "Get a grip, mate," he said irritably. "She's engaged."

"Engaged, but not married," Bryce replied, a sly grin on his face. "Draco, how is it that you've never mentioned _her_? What a dish..."

Draco grimaced noticeabley. "You are mad. That is by far the most insufferable witch that has ever walked the planet."

Ludeck smirked. "Insufferable because she'd never give you the time of day?"

"Remember who you work for," Draco shot back complacently.

Ludeck's smile faltered and he furrowed his brows. "Can't take a joke when it comes to that one, eh?" he prodded. "Tell me Draco, why is it that you two never hooked up? I mean, you can't deny the girl's a catch- that body…and that face!" Bryce whistled in appreciation. "And damn, that hair! Phew, what I wouldn't give to grab hold of those soft, dark curls." He waggled his brows.

Draco was nauseated. "You're really starting to bug me."

Ludeck continued as if he hadn't heard a word Draco said. "And talk about brilliant- the chick_ is_ a walking textbook! Damn, mate, she's one hell of a bird." The Australian was clearly smitten.

Huffing, Draco stalked over to the couch and slumped onto the cushions. Ludeck wandered over and sat next to him. "So, what she was like back at Hogwarts? More importantly, how'd she look in the uniform?"

Draco looked at him like he had grown another head. "Look Bryce, Granger and I never have and probably never will be friends. I didn't hang out with her back at Hogwarts because, honestly, we played on different teams. She was a good guy and I was a…well, I guess you could say I was a bad guy."

"I'm sure you weren't all that bad, Draco," the darker man countered.

Draco rubbed his eyes, flashes of memory abruptly assuaging him. Granger was crying while he stood by, laughing and heckling her. Potter was yelling at him and Weasley had his wand drawn. Crabbe and Goyle looked on too, also laughing at the sweet, petite girl. She looked so young and innocent- what ever had possessed him to treat her so horribly? Why was he such a vile human being? Draco began to berate himself, angry that he'd allowed such age old prejudices to drive him in his youth. He didn't realize that he was mumbling aloud until Bryce gripped his shoulder.

He looked up. Granger was standing in front of him, her eyes wide in disbelief. She seemed unable to speak, she just held out a piece of parchment for him to take. He looked down at it- it bore his personal seal.

"This was delivered with your owl," she whispered.

Draco was a little worried about what he had been muttering. _Shite, did I call her a Mudblood or something? _

He took the parchment from her hand and she swallowed thickly. "Thank you for letting me use your owl," she said hesitantly. "I think I'll do a little research on Ramadani now." She turned and moved toward the heap of books in front of the fireplace.

He raised his brows. "You're staying?"

She threw a glance over her shoulder. "Remember, we've all been subjected to a spell- we need to try and figure it out."

Draco had completely forgotten about the codex's charm! He nodded at her, watching as she began to stack the books one on top of the other. Ludeck strolled over to help her and she smiled at him tentatively.

"Thanks," she said softly.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled seductively. "Anytime, Hermione."

Draco sneered at the exchange but his displeasure was cut off as the firebox suddenly flamed to life. Startled, the trio flinched as a large, ginger-haired bloke stumbled out of the hearth in a pillar of emerald flames. He held a wand in one hand and a scrunched up piece of parchment in the other. Draco couldn't help but notice the irate expression on his freckled face.

"Ron!" Granger cried, obviously surprised.


End file.
